Day of the Dead
by MizAb
Summary: America lights a candle that resurrects the former empires Aztec, Inca, and Maya from their death on Halloween night. It's up to him, Spain, and the rest of the gang to stop the sisters before the sun rises. If not, the curse becomes permanent, and the former empires are allowed to walk freely upon the Earth and take their revenge upon Spain and the rest of the world. Fem!Mexico
1. Prologue

_"Entre los individuos como entre las naciones, el respecto al derecho ajeno es la paz."_ –Benito Juarez

Translation:_ "Among individuals as among nations, the respect to other people's rights is peace."_

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Prologue

Spain had been many things in his long life as a country. His personal favorite was being a conquistador, sailing the seas and conquering various parts of the New World. His most important and time-consuming job, however, was babysitting his colonies. Before it was only Romano, who wasn't the cutest kid around, but now Spain took in more kids. One of them was named Mexico. Well now she referred to herself as such, but before she won her independence, Spain called her New Spain. She may have been a child, but she was wise and mature for her young age.

Spain had a difficult history with her mother. She was cold towards him and wanted nothing to do with him when they first met. Over time they grew closer, and Aztec allowed her walls to come down. Unfortunately, their friendship ended before it could truly start. Aztec caught a deadly disease known as smallpox.

Before Aztec died, she gave Spain authority to take care of her child. She didn't trust anyone else. So Spain did as he was told by the great country and took in the young one. He renamed the child New Spain in order to keep Cortés happy and off his back. He took care of her as his own daughter only because he felt guilty for taking her only parent's life. His presence in the New World is the reason why the Aztec as well as the Inca and Mayan Empires crumbled. If it weren't for him, they would have been alive, especially Aztec, who would have loved nothing more than to see her daughter grow up into a strong country.

One memory haunted him the most, even seeing Aztec moments before she passed never scarred him like this memory. It was a humid and rainy day, he recalled. The raindrops made noise on his hat that he wore crossing the seas. One by one the men walked to the gallows. Their faces were stoic and unchanging, even when the Spanish conquistadors tightened the ropes around their necks. They were all found guilty for planning an ambush on some of Spain's men the other day. Their plans were leaked, and the Spanish men captured them instead. One man name Itzcoatl led the others. He had no regrets about his actions nor did he flinch when the Spanish manhandled him. But one person did get an emotion out of him.

When Itzcoatl's eyes landed on Aztec, he fell to his knees and began to plead. Though his hands were tied behind his back, he bowed before the woman, begging for her forgiveness and life. He claimed to have done his actions in the honor of their people. Spain looked back and forth between the man and country. Aztec looked heart-stricken like she was the sole reason he was being sent his death. She couldn't form words only look down at him in pain. When the Spanish guards pulled him away from the two countries, Itzcoatl began yelling in their mysterious language like calling back a former lover that had rejected his love. Aztec couldn't bear the thought of seeing such a loyal man die even if she had never met him before. Itzcoatl did everything out of love for his country, for Aztec.

He died on October 31, 1521. Spain remembered the day well. Itzcoatl was hung, and his body was left for the native birds to feast on as well as showing the crowd what could happen if you fall out of line with the Spanish. The crowds were so quiet, so scared to start a riot with Cortés that everyone heard his spine snap when he fell.

A bloodcurdling scream followed the noise. It was Itcoatl's sister Malintzin. She ran out in front of the gallows, running up to her brother's dead body. She cried and cried as the crowd scattered their own ways in different directions. Spain stayed with Aztec, who couldn't find the energy to move her legs or any other part of her body from the horrible sight. She just stood there with a mixture of tears and rain running down her beautiful face.

The screaming settled down, and Malintzin walked to Aztec with so much confusion and sorrow in her eyes. She couldn't understand how Aztec, their beloved nation, allowed such retched monsters such as the Spaniards to kill valiant warriors. Malintzin just added more pain to Aztec. Her heart was already weighed down with sadness and guilt. She couldn't do anything about the situation. If she told Cortés to stop hurting her people, she would be accused of treason, and more blood would be shed. Aztec was just much of a victim in all of this as everyone else. Actually, she was more of a prisoner. Her chains were invisible though. Cortés locked her in her room all day. She only came out with Cortés too. He didn't trust Spain to be alone with her anymore. He sensed something in Spain; that his country gained feelings for the savage one.

"I'm sorry, so sorry for your brother, but there isn't anything we- I could've done," Aztec finally spoke up, speaking in Spanish. Malintzin took a step back in disgust. Aztec shut her eyes tightly. She knew she messed up by speaking in the foreigners' language instead of theirs. It was the last straw with Malintzin.

"You betrayed us. You betrayed us!" Malintzin screamed at the top of her lungs. She turned her attention to Spain, who was standing to the side, watching the scene unfold. "It's him! You traded your people's lives for his acceptance!" Then the woman looked at Spain with so much disgust it scared him instantly. The Spaniard looked at Malintzin but quickly changed his glance to Aztec. The woman's image burned into Spain's memory. Her black hair was unruly, covering half of her face. Her eyes that were full of hate were almost as dark as her hair, but only emptiness and death were seen in them. Malintzin could have been beautiful once, but in front of Spain was a distorted woman filled with madness caused by her demented lifestyle.

She kept on blaming Aztec for letting the Spanish take over their land. Aztec just took the words and accusations head on. At one point, Malintzin took out a sharpened piece of bone hidden in her clothes between her shouts and ran towards Spain. If she killed him, the conquest would be over in an instant. Spain reached for his sword, waiting for the collision.

But the woman spotted. Not by choice, though. Her country gripped onto the human's wrist which was connected to the hand that held the sharpened bone. Malintzin hissed like an animal. She was so close to driving the bone into the other nation's chest.

"That's enough," Aztec said in a stern voice but then whispered, "You're only making the situation worse."

"No… oh no no no," a twisted evil smirk appeared on Malintzin's face, "you got it wrong, my leader. I'm only doing what you should have done a long time ago. Kill him and the rest of his demons! But oh no… you turned against us, and because of that you are a monster just like them!"

"Seize her!" a man behind Spain yelled out, pulling out his sword toward the three. A couple of Spanish soldiers grabbed Malinztin's hands and tied them behind her back. Even as they pulled her away to the gallows to join her brother in death, Malintzin kept her eyes on Aztec, who stared back with intensity defending her honor.

"Enjoy your 'happiness' for as long as you can because I will come back! I will avenge my brother's death as well as the other courageous men who fought to keep you standing! Their deaths are in vain because of you!" The woman shouted. She seemed to be enjoying the fear in the people around her. Malintzin screamed and moved like a wild animal, kicking the Spanish men around her in the shin for the heck of it. She wanted to have some fun before she took in her last breath.

Aztec stood in shock not sure if what she was witnessing actually took place. As the men put the rope around her neck, Malintzin spouted hateful words and curses. Mostly the Spaniards, but it was obvious that she cursed at Aztec too for not standing up for their people and safety.

Before the trap doors opened to end her life, Malintzin laughed like a mad woman. And in a quick, swift motion, the doors fell open from under the woman's feet. Her body kept up by the rope from her neck, swaying with no life.

Spain had been staying at Tenochtitlan for a few years, but not once had he seen Aztec in such a weak state. She bottled up her emotions, never showing others what she truly felt. But now, she couldn't stop the pain and fear. Her hands trembled at her sides. She realized how vulnerable she had grown in the presence of the Spanish. Her people looked at her with a status of a god. But right now, a woman stood up to her, shouting hurtful words that wouldn't have made Aztec flinch in the past. It was easy before. The punishment for rebellion and such disrespect was death, but why was she crying? Why was she allowing herself to show such a weak emotion in public in front of Spain of all people? Did she truly let her people down? That was how she felt as she clutched at her chest. She failed them. And she failed herself.

The memory of Malintzin's mad laughter woke up Spain from his slumber. He sat up in his luxurious bed, panting and shaking. Anything that reminded him of his conquistador days either gave him a sense of pride or absolute pain. He calmed himself by taking in deep breaths. He never seemed to escape them even after all these years. It was almost five-hundred years ago that Malintzin died, but she still haunted his memories. The Spaniard's body relaxed against his wooden headboard.

His thoughts shifted to Aztec once again. He mused over her strength and natural beauty. No one in Europe had met or seen her before she passed. They only heard the stories the Spanish spread themselves when they returned home. Most of which were very much exaggerated to the point of not being true. Now at days people never gave a thought to the empire that was almost lost from people's memories. Spain was the only one alive who had met and interacted with them in the past.

That wasn't true. Mexico had as well. But her memories of her mother are so fuzzy that she doesn't even have a clear picture of her face, which made Spain's lips form a sad smile. Mexico looked so much like her mother; it scared Spain. Her hair was a few shades lighter and was a bit wavy. Another thing was personality. Aztec was quiet and reserved, but with Mexico, it was an entirely different story. She was loud and not afraid to show America or other countries what she felt.

Still, every time he saw her was always a quick trip down memory lane. Spain was truly the only one left with his thoughts of a woman who really had so much more to live for. It was a mixture of both happiness and heartache. Spain never nor ever will regret meeting Aztec yet he couldn't help but think she and Mexico would have been by far happier without his existence in their lives. What happened has happened, he knew that.

His only wish was for God to release him of the pain and Malintzin's words.

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**Next chapter will relate more to the description I promise. Sorry for the confusion.**


	2. The Walking Dead

_"T-Dog: Guess the world changed._

_Guillermo: No. It's the same as it ever was: the weak get taken."-The Walking Dead, Episode 4: Vatos_

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The day was All Hallows Eve, and one hyper, loud country couldn't wait for the night to come. America loved Halloween to death. It gave him an excuse to scare and tease his friends all night long. And for those who lived near him like his brother Canada and close friend Mexico it was the worse holiday EVER. They heard his annoying laughter all WEEK long and always got 'surprises' like fake spiders in their beds, skeletons in their showers, or whatever America thought of in the past year. It was painful but not as bad as England's, who always managed to be on top of America's trick list.

But this year America wanted to spice things up, maybe even scare all the nations at a single time. It would be legen- wait for it because America was chewing on a Twix candy bar-dary! Unfortunately, his house was being renovated; so he bothered Mexico for days to offer her place up. He would have asked Canada, but many-and by that he meant all- always got lost going to his house. They never could find it for some odd reason. But saying it was America's hat wasn't all that helpful either, he admitted. Over time, Mexico finally snapped and just gave up the fight. America shuts up for no one.

America stood in front of Mexico's house right on schedule, holding a large box filled with Halloween decorations. He would have knocked but… that was so not his style so he barged right in like usual.

"MEXICO!" The American shouted, kicking open the door in. "I'm here!" Silence welcomed him in. Nothing stirred in Mexico's house, which was weird because it usually is full of ruckus. The American placed his box of Halloween goodies on the nearest table. America peeked his head in her living room. Nothing. It was lifeless. He thought again on Mexico's whereabouts, and it clicked. "The kitchen," he said as he dashed toward the room opposite of the living room.

There she was, taking a nap on the table with her half eaten breakfast still in front of her. He sat down in the chair facing her and waited for her to wake up. America could wait when he wanted to especially if it meant he would get a good reaction out of someone. So he waited about ten seconds before something else caught his attention. In front of Mexico's head was a plate with a half-eaten pastry of some sort on it. He slid the plate in front of him and grabbed his friend's breakfast. America remembered Mexico had told him the name of the pastry but he forgot it. He knew it made him laugh. That was all he recalled.

Pan something or other; he tried so hard to get the last part. Pan sushi, he recalled with a grin. That was what he called it, which made Mexico red in the face when he first said it.

The American chuckled. Oh he was hilarious sometimes. Pshhh sometimes? He meant ALL THE TIME. Then his typical laugh resonance through the entire house, making Mexico stir from her slumber. The woman lifted her head and put her back against the wooden chair. She hadn't noticed America's presence yet since she rubbed her hands over her face. She opened one of her eyes, realizing there was a chewing noise near her. Mexico jumped back when she saw her neighbor in front of her eating her breakfast.

"Aye dios mios," she mumbled under her breath. Waking up to America in your house unwanted never made anyone's day.

"Howdy sleeping beauty! Have any nice dreams?" America asked with his mouth full of Mexico's pastry. Crumbs fell from his lips to the table top, which made Mexico look at him with utter disgust.

"What the hell are you doing here, America," The Mexican got up from her seat to look in the fridge for more food.

"My awesometastic party is today HELLO!"

"Stop lying. It's not November 2nd," Mexico remarked.

"What are you smoking, Mexico? Everyone knows Halloween is on October 31st. It's a known fact."

"You said it was going to be on Dia de los Muertos, and it's not today."

"Look there's your problem. You probably didn't hear me right due to my awesome. I said it was gonna be on Day of the Dead not Dia Doritos." Mexico tried so hard to keep her fist from punching America right in the face.

"Dia de los Muertos translates into Day of the Dead, moron. And don't tell me you assumed it was the same day as Halloween." Judging from America's lack of eye contact, she was spot on right. Scratch what she thought earlier about punching him in the face. She was going to kick him straight in the Liberty Bells.

"Excuse me, I googled images of your holiday and saw skeletons. So yeah, I assumed it had a Halloween atmosphere to it."

"Dia de los Muertos," she started, "is hardly the same thing. We honor those who have died before us by going to their graves. Some people clean them or just have a good time hanging around-"

"Bleh don't care! It sounds way too boring to be celebrated near me. And honestly who wants to risk running into a ghost or a zombie on Halloween?"

"The odds of anyone meeting those things are as slim asyougrowingabrain," Mexico jumbled the last part of the sentence together, "Well, sorry to break it to you but some of your citizens do celebrate it."

"Yeah, 'cause they all left this dump…" The last part slipped from America's lips. He turned to her and saw the scowl he so rightfully earned. He messed up big time, but Mexico didn't say a word.

"I'm going to be gone most of the night. I'll just make sure my citizens don't mess up your party. Also, I have some things to take care of around my dump of a land." Mexico grabbed her bag and proceeded toward her door.

"Wait I'm sorry! What I said was a real douchey thing to say. You don't have to leave or be by yourself tonight." America tried so hard to amend things on the spot.

"Look this has nothing to do with you," Mexico said as she released her arm from America's strong grasp, "I'm always busy around this time. I still have to celebrate my holiday, my way."

"Okay…" America said a bit defeated. He didn't know what else to say as Mexico gathered her things to leave to do her errands. "Hey," the young man shouted right as Mexico was about to close the door, "Canada should be coming over soon. Also England and France should be stopping by later to help me set things up."

"Alright," Mexico finally showed some happiness through a small smile instead of being irritated by America's comment. "But make sure England and France don't break anything. With those two around my house should be gone within the hour. Honestly, it's just another world war with those two."

"You got it!" And so Mexico closed the door continuing her day, leaving America alone to start setting up his Halloween party.

The clock struck six o'clock. The windows showed nothing but darkness and a few colorful lights in the far distance, which didn't sit well with America. He wasn't a fan of the dark. But knowing Mexico was out there for hours alone made him more anxious. It was a known fact that Mexico was a tough woman (hotheaded would be a more accurate term). She didn't take crap from anybody, especially America, France, and Spain. She could probably beat the crap out of them if she wanted to, but it never came to that. It happened once with France during the Pastry War, but he had it coming.

He knew she was strong without a doubt, but this afternoon she seemed different. She didn't chew off his head or beat him up. But he didn't have much time to think about it, seeing as England and France hadn't stopped arguing since they walked in the door. They were making it all about themselves when it should have been about America and his amazing party, dammit!

"Hey you two, shut up, will ya?" America spoke up enough to make them stop going at each other's throats.

"'onestly, 'ow did a once so adorable child become such a… what would you say… ane? If I took care of 'im, zis problem wouldn't 'ave 'appened."

"Where did I go wrong? I gave you everything, spoiled you rotten, and you repay me with such rudeness in front of this man of all people." England covered his face in shame.

"Oh stop bringing that up. I don't see you two talk about Canada like that."

"An incredible example, America. See 'ow my wonderful former colony grew up? 'e is such a wonderful child and man. TAKE ZAT ENGLAND!"

"SHUT UP." And just like that, they were at it again.

"Can you two please be careful? If you break any of Mexico's things, I'm going to be in major trouble. Like, she will attack me full throttle."

"So zings aren't okay wiz you two yet?" France asked trying to prove his title as the 'Country of Love' was in fact the truth.

"When are they ever civil ever to one another? You two are just as bad as us." England pointed to himself and France.

"True, but zey can 'andle zeir frustrazons in ways we cannot." France gave one of his perverted looks toward America then England.

"What are you getting at?" America asked, not understanding the sexual innuendo. "Come on, what are you saying?"

"Dear Lord, you didn't learn anything as my colony." England didn't mean to sound so irritated but at the moment that was all he felt. "He means hatesex!"

America jumped back at the word. He never thought of such a thing especially involving Mexico. Well he kind of did but that was only because they lived so close together. And France shouting out 'Mexihoe' on 'accident' every now and then might have put thoughts in his head. Other than that, nothing. The American finally noticed the Englishman and Frenchman's shocked faces.

"You mean to tell me that you two have never-"

"Done ze deed?"

"It's not our fault! I never looked at Mexico like that," he lied, "Besides… all we do is fight; even throughout our history, it's just wars and arguing. I guess all those times of you and Spain trying to make us enemies worked out after all, England."

"Don't pin this on me, America. This is all on you," England defended himself.

"You 'ave done it before, non? Maybe anozer country or just a regular citizen? Surely, you haven't waited zis long!" France asked, hoping that his hunch was wrong, but he was right. America just ignored the two and continued to clean up his surrounding, avoiding any eye contact whatsoever. "Oh mon ami…" France hugged the younger nation as if he only had a few days to live. "Don't worry! Big brozer France 'as zis under control! Would you want a fine young woman or man to suit your needs?"

"I'm not gay! I just… I don't have a good reason on the top of my head for this…"

"See if you were my colony in ze first place, none of zis wouldn't 'ave 'appened to you. Girls would be zrowing zemselves at you. But zanks to zis Brit, you're just as bad with woman as 'e is wiz cooking." And the last comment was England's last straw. The Englishman put his hands around France's neck and began to strangle him.

"I would have taken my chances with England anyways. Canada told me his stories from when he was a kid, and I might have come out traumatized as he did."

"See that I won! My scones beat your French cuisine!"

"Zis is no time to bring in our lifelong rivalry! America is in a 'orrible situazion! Zis must be fixed by tonight!"

"How can you think of such an inappropriate thing, you git?"

"I am French."

So after much persuasion by the Frenchman and once Canada came over to house sit for them, the three went out on a (not so life threatening) task as France called it "mission to get America laid"… mission. England only went along to make sure France didn't make a fool of himself in front of Mexico's people. Last thing they needed was another Pastry War where France would most likely cry like a little girl (again).

The Mexican streets were empty. Within the city, it was dark and boring. Not many people were out. Most were either tourists or Mexicans still attending their jobs in shops. France pointed to every other woman on the street. Immediately, America regretted agreeing to let him help his 'situation'. As he tried to ignore his remarks, America noticed a museum open for business. Some teenagers were entering and exiting the building. Obviously, they had nothing better to do than go to a museum.

"Hey, you guys," America turned to England and France, "wanna to check out the museum?"

"Why, so we can learn past events we were involved in?" England looked at America as if he were an idiot, well more than usual.

"No, but earlier today Mexico was acting a bit strange. She wasn't her usual self. Maybe we can figure something out," America replied.

"Strange? 'ow so?"

"Well, for one I accidentally insulted her, and she didn't kill me. And it looked as though her mind was somewhere else. You guys know of anything that happened recently?"

"No but Spain might," England answered. "Despite their past, they managed to stay close." (England shot a why-couldn't-we-be-like-that glance to America, who avoided the look.) "So he might have an idea of what's going on."

"Let me call 'im!" As France dialed the number on his cell phone, America entered the building with England right behind him. The two looked around, gazing at the odd artifacts.

There were various pictures of past wars that America had been a part of. But seeing as they already knew what happened in the more recent history, the American travelled deeper into the building. The farther he went in revealed the earlier part of Mexico's past. There were pictures of temples and the carvings hidden inside their walls. America's excitement rose when he saw murals of bloody fights with men killing one another.

On the other side of the room was England, who was more drawn to the bizarre creatures tied to Mexican people's religion such as a human-eating dog-monkey with a hand attached to its tail named Ahuitzotl. England held in a laugh. How odd were these people for thinking up such a creature? Oh he had to share this with the fairies and unicorns when he returned home.

America took a few steps to mannequins who wore replicated clothing of the Aztec people. On the side of the clothes was a fake headdress with magnificent green colored feathers. They originated from a sacred bird that the Aztec people worshipped greatly. It was worth more than gold at the time.

Then next to the head piece was a medium sized rock that had odd carvings. As America leaned in to get a better look, he noticed that one of the figures carved on the piece of earth looked remotely close to his extraterrestrial comrade Tony. The America whipped his flip phone out and took a picture. He had to send it to Tony. And he did as well as the caption, "hey look bro his guy totes looks like u XD lol!"

Laughter broke America's concentration on the artifacts. It was the teenagers from earlier. Apparently, they had their fun disobeying the rules by entering the restricted area of the museum that was undergoing renovations.

"Hey man, what's down there?" America asked the group of teens not caring which one answered his question.

They all whispered to one another before the word "Americano" came up in their conversation. One of the boys spoke up. He looked like the leader of the pack or he spoke the best English out of the lot. "It's a replication of one of the Aztec temples. Nothing much to look at though. It's still being fixed up."

"So why did you risk getting in trouble if it was boring?" England overheard the reply, not understanding it.

"Rumor is that it was built over a gravesite where the Spanish conquistadors killed many Aztecs. We wanted to see if anything scary happened. But like I said it was just boring." The boy gained England's full attention when the words 'Spanish conquistadors' were said. He heard rumors about Spain's conquests in the New World but never from the man himself. He always changed the subject. Whether that was on purpose or accidental, England never figured it out.

America's excitement went way up. It was clearly over 9000. "LET'SGOENGLAND," he commanded like a mad man as he grabbed the Brit's arm.

England released his arm from America's grip after he was dragged down the hallway. The Englishman rubbed his arm that was turning red as he looked at the jade masks, examining every detail that was crafted into them. It was amazing what people could accomplish without modern day technology. While England finally walked into the grand room, he noticed how messy and disorganized it was. There were wooden boxes filled with ancient items. America opened a folder that contained the description of each artifact in the room.

"Anything interesting?" England looked over America's shoulder as he asked the question.

"Not yet," the American replied, flipping through the pages, "oh wait what's this… 'in the year 1521, the Spanish conquistadors—'"

"Zere you two are! I was looking everywhere for you two!" France interrupted America from reading any further. "I 'ad to ask zose rowdy teenagers for 'elp! And I zink zey were making fun of my accent!"

"Who wouldn't make fun of your accent?" Both England and America shot back.

"'ow rude," France said but brushed it off, being distracted by the room. "What do we 'ave 'ere?"

"Before you rudely interrupted America, he was going to read something about Spain during his conquistador days." France's interest piqued as soon as England mentioned Spain. It was always fun to get some dirt on a close friend or in England's case an arch enemy. "Do go on America."

"Let's see…" America gazed at the words, looking where he left off, "Okay, 'in the year 1521, the Spanish conquistadors who were led by Hernan Cortés defeated the Aztecs after capturing their leader Cuauhtémoc and the capital Tenochtitlan. The Spanish surrounded the isolated capital and launched daily attacks from their ships. The Aztec people's supply of water and food depleted rather quickly, and many died because of it. Smallpox was another factor to the Aztec defenders' downfall. The Spaniards destroyed the city-state and built Mexico City on top of the ruins. Most of the Aztec civilization has been lost to the world ever since.' Well that wasn't remotely depressing."

"Oui."

"Aztec…?" The word baffled England. He heard it many moons ago during the 16th century when Henry VIII was in power but not much afterwards. "Has Mexico ever mentioned anything about this Aztec Empire, America?"

America looked perplexed at England's question. Did she? He had a tendency to zone everyone out when he played videogames like Call of Duty online with Prussia across the world. Good times, he remembered. "No… at least I don't think so."

The three couldn't get the mental image of Spain or his people going to such an extent to rid the world of these native people out of their minds. Sure, a country must endure bloody battles, but this… it just seemed heartless. Spain was just not that kind of guy.

America flipped through the pages in the brown folder once again, gazing at the pictures and captions. One picture caught his eye. It was a carving on a rock wall drawn in the Aztec style. It focused on a candle with a woman appearing from the smoke the flame created along with an odd symbol on it. On a sticky note, it had one handwritten word that was barely legible, "Nahual." The word didn't faze America in the slightest way. It had no meaning to him, but it seemed important to the Aztecs. It must be a god or something, he thought.

If Mexico saw him rummaging through the crate right now, she would most likely kick America's ass on the spot. But she wasn't here so it was all good. He felt a smooth ceramic plate with his fingers and pulled it out, noticing the bottom looked like a puzzle piece before he placed it on the crate to his right.

France and England heard the ruffling noise coming from where America was almost immediately. Noticing the other countries near him, America started handing them the artifacts hidden in the crate. He gave England a large book of some sort. It looked like it had been through hell and back yet it was still intact.

"Is it really necessary to do this?" England asked. "This doesn't sit well with me."

"Oh come on, you stole many zings during your pirate days," France remarked, holding a mirror America gave him a few moment before, "Zis is nozeeng compared to zat."

"You arse…" England said with venom, "Why must you bring that up every time we meet?"

"Just one of ze many perks of our friendship," France answered, pissing England off even more. He looked in the mirror America handed him and realized that everything seemed a bit foggy and a few shades darker than what was really shown. "'ey England, does zis look weird to you?"

The Brit took a few steps toward the Frenchman. It was a tad bit gloomier but nothing out of the ordinary. It must have been due with how old it was. "No, but the Frenchman in the reflection might have something to do with it."

America just blocked the other two out. It was second nature to him after all these years of growing up with them. Their nagging ceased when America found another smaller crate at the bottom of the bigger one. For one reason or another, it felt like whatever was in the box called out to America, saying things like 'open me' in a hushed, slurred tone. So America did what the voice told him to do. He grabbed the box, surprising France and England when the wood hit the floor with a loud, thunderous thud.

America looked like a mad man as he opened the crate with his bare hands. They knew he was strong but this was out of the question.

England couldn't hold in his frustrations any longer. America looked like a jewel thief, robbing a store in the middle of the night. "America, this has gone on long enough. You're not even attempting to help out Mexico by now. You're just rummaging through her people's relics. This isn't going to give you answers."

But England's former colony paid no attention to his words as he lifted a rather large wax candle from the box. America gazed at it in utter awe as he remembered seeing a familiar candle on the papers a few moments before.

"Look," America pointed to the paper. "I wonder if these candles are the same."

"How would you even consider putting these two things together?"

"I don't know… I have this hunch. That's all." America finished his reply to England and looked at the ground. In the center was an elevated area with a deeper carving in the middle of it. The American realized that it was the same form from the ceramic plate he found earlier. So America placed it on top and it clicked instantly. It was a perfect fit. His next step was getting the candle and standing it on top. The last part was lighting the sucker. America pulled out his lighter with the American flag on it.

Right before he opened it, England intervened. "Stop this madness right now, America. You've done enough!"

"What? Do you think I'm going to destroy the world or put anything in danger? We'll be fine as long as you call in your imaginary friends," America teased. France played no part in it. This was an argument between the two and it was best not to get involved.

"If you can't find respect for me, then find some for Mexico and her people. You're playing with something we have no clue about. You don't know what the Aztecs are capable of."

"Aztecs? They've been gone for centuries. Anything they had or thought about is a load of hocus pocus by now."

The flame from America's lighter barely touched the thread when he lit it. Silence came upon them. Then, a sudden boom came from the single flame. After that the ground began to shake, knocking America down to the floor while England and France managed their stance. The shaking stopped as quickly as they had begun, leaving the nations in dismay.

"What the bloody hell just happened," England asked, knowing the answer already.

"A virgin lit zee candle." France pointed to America, who collapsed on the stone floor. "'opefully, zee worst is over with." England nodded his head. Francypants actually said something he agreed with for once.

America just lied on his back, taking in deep breaths to calm himself down. For a moment there, he honest to God thought he triggered horrible events bound to ruin everyone's Halloween and let's not forget to mention Mexico's place. America stared at the lines engraved on the stone ceiling, following them with his eyes. A cool, gentle breeze tickled his cheek. It felt nice, seeing as his face was hot from fear. At that moment, America shot his blue eyes open. He didn't remember a draft before. Plus, they were too deep into the building to be effected by nature.

"Guys," America sat up on the ground, "Did you remember feeling a breeze before I lit the candle?"

England gave a confused look in reply. He wasn't sure why America asked such an odd question at a time like this. France answered with a barely audible 'non' with an uncomfortable stillness replacing the word afterward.

A small howl of the wind became known to them. One by one they turned their heads to the door they entered and where the sound grew louder. A roaring gust of wind almost swept them off their feet. England wrapped his arms around a stone pillar luckily before being knocked down to the floor. France did the same only with a large crate. The wind blew out the lights even the light bulbs, leaving the three in sheer darkness. Only the candle America lit before provided them with a faint glow.

"Guys," America sounded panicky with a cracked voice, "Guys, you okay?"

"I've been better," replied England. "Blimey, was the wind so strong that it destroyed the lights?" From where America was, it sounded as though England gasped. "France, get your bloody hands off me!"

"It's too dark! I'm scared!"

"Don't take it out on me! This is America's doing!"

"I'm sure we'll be fine," America hoped, more like prayed. Once America finished his statement, more candle lights flickered on, giving the countries more light to work with. "See? Things are already lookin' up."

Oh America regretted those words when he noticed an abnormal discovery with the candle. Instead of candle wax, a crimson colored liquid traveled down the white candle onto the floor, filling the cracks with its bright scarlet color. America got up as quickly as he could, avoiding to get it on his body by any means necessary. It stretched to the ends of the floor then up the side of the walls like the blood system in the body. The very thought repulsed England and France. Only France backed into the wall, unintentionally touching the fluid with his hand. It was blood, he confirmed, human blood. France didn't think it through when he wiped the blood on his jacket.

America stood in front of the candle with his lighter still in his hand in shock of what he had done. The crimson fluid was now on the ceiling, never spilling a drop until it reached the spot directly above the candle it originated from. Long drops of blood began to cover the candle without actually extinguishing the still flame. The blood looked as though it was forming something of a body. America finally gained the common sense to follow his friends' suit. He too hid from whatever was happening. The three took a peek from their hiding place.

With every passing second, the bloody form grew and became more of a human figure. The mass of blood looked as though it pulsated with life during its final stages of development. The blood formed into tendons, muscles, and organs right in front of the three, completely revolting them all. Skin then covered the insides except the face; as though it left the most horrific for last. England verified the body belonging to a woman. And from where he hid, he noticed the woman's mouth gaped open, sucking in the air around her. Then when it reached its point, the body collapsed on the floor, causing a booming slam to echo around the room.

The woman or whatever was created landed on her stomach with her face to the floor. Her chest rose and fell when she took in quick wheezes like the air around her had suffocated her. She struggled to get up almost as if she hadn't used her body in a very long time. Her white as snow arms shook as she lifted her upper body up. No one saw her face or at least it as a whole. Her long black hair covered most of it.

The woman seemed curious about her newfound body as well. She looked at her white hands with long finger nails that resembled claws on a cat. She quickly touched her face with her hand while the other ran its fingers through her messy hair. Though America, who glanced from his hiding spot, couldn't get a good picture of the woman's face, he could have sworn to have seen her lips form a wicked grin. Then, the woman let out a horrifying laugh sounding more like a shriek that sent chills down the young countries' backs.

The woman rose to her thin legs standing up hunched over a bit. At that point the others in the room knew it was best to hide themselves from the woman's sight completely. France had a perfect view of both England and France. The Englishman on the other hand only saw France. In order to see America, England had to look in the direction of the dreadful woman. He had to find a way out of this madness.

As England thought of strategies, America was left all alone on the other side of the room with no knowledge of where the woman was. He covered his mouth with his hand, hoping to stop his hard breathing.

France found a place keeping his head hidden when he snuck a peek at the woman. She took a few steps toward England's way. Though France was a good distance away from his childhood rival, he could see England trembling. The long shadow on the floor showed him of what was happening. He heard the thing stumbling, and then it stopped abruptly. England shut his eyes as tight as he could. The tips of hair fell on his arm, causing goose bumps to appear in the area of his arm. He felt her hot breathe on his neck. Her breathing reminding England of hissing a snake does in order to create fear in its next prey.

From across the room hidden by crates, America bottled up the courage to take a look at what he had started. The creature or woman hovered in England's area. America turned his head and saw France who showed nothing else but fear. The American knew he had to save England from whatever this _person_ was. In front of him was the wooden crate he opened. America searched through the hay and found an old ceramic pot. He grabbed its handle and threw it at the ground, shattering it into countless pieces.

The thing stood up, instantly forgetting England's presence. She looked at America with her hair still covering the majority of her white face.

"Hey Samara," America finally spoke up even though his throat was dry, "I'm the hero so I'm the one you really want!"

She tilted her head in response and took a step toward America. His sense of panic kicked in. America walked back into a wall, holding him back from running away from the walking dead. She stood in front of the country, examining his form up and down. Seeing as she was so close, America couldn't help but smell the rotting of flesh that came after death, emitting from her body. This thing wasn't human, he thought.

The woman lifted her hand in a flash. She touched America's cheek with one of her long finger nails. The nail trailed down his face to his neck, and then stopped at his chest. America felt the oxygen in him escape instantly as the woman placed her entire hand over his heart's location. It was as though the air was being sucked out of him like a vacuum found in a regular household.

As soon as her hand lost contact with his chest, America fell to the ground, gasping for air. Without a care in the world, England ran to his former colony's side with France following right behind him. England noticed how America looked as though he had the wind kicked out of him right away.

"What did you do to him?" He screamed at the woman who now backed off from the two. England then realized his mistake. She probably hadn't a clue of what he was saying. He glanced back at America, who now slowly regained his breath.

"Nothing that will harm him in the long run," they all heard a woman speak in a raspy voice. England shot his head toward the only woman in the room. She had a evil smirk on her distorted face.

"You can speak English? But how-"

The woman paid no attention to the Englishman. She examined every small detail of the room she was in. Everything seemed old and run down. Not the way she remembered. The crates in the room also made the place smaller than it truly was. Slowly she realized that this building wasn't her home, her true home. "What have you done to our temple? What have you monsters done to our precious temple?" She began to scream at the countries.

"We 'aven't done anyzeeing wrong!" France was beyond scared shitless at this point. The woman only tilted her head.

"Who are you?" She asked, "Where are you from? Are you more of those Spanish conquistadors who ruined my people's lives?"

"NO! No…! In fact, I've hated the Spanish for quite some time too," England defended himself. Finally, a situation came where it was fine to be an enemy of the Spanish. England thought quick on his feet and leaned in toward America, who recovered completely from the incident beforehand. "And I also raised him to hate the Spanish so we are on your side!"

"Oui! We are all comrades here," France decided to take the easy route on this one. Sure, he was good friends with Spain, but right now it didn't seem like a good idea to acknowledge his presence. The Frenchman tried to persuade the woman more to calm her down and not be so anxious. "We are all friends here! Amigos, non!" He took a shot at Spanish.

But the woman looked at him with so much hate and repulsion. If looks could kill, she would be torturing him for days before she done the deed. "How dare you speak their disgusting language in front of me on this sacred ground!" The demonic woman wrapped one of her hands around France's neck very tightly as he backed into the wall. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now for degrading me as one of those damned Spanish."

England and America scooted away from the frightening scene. This person had so much loathing in her dark eyes. It seemed impossible to think she was alive or once lived on this Earth. England turned toward America's direction. He had grabbed a heavy piece of wood from one of the crates. He put his index finger in front of his mouth, signaling England to keep quiet as well as distract the woman from seeing him. America, who took shelter from the woman's view, had a plan, a gutsy plan, but anything was worth trying at this point.

"Excuse me, Miss," England spoke up with no game plan whatsoever, "Please don't harm that Frenchman. That's my job as a representative of the great British Empire to personally take pride in defeating France."

"France… British…?" She questioned, "I never heard of such countries. Are you lying to me?"

"Of course not! I am a gentleman. I will never do such shameful things. May I ask what you do know about the world?"

"The Spanish came from the vast waters, claiming everything we had as theirs. They destroyed my home. They must suffer as we did!"

Her tone of voice sent chills down England's spine. Never before had he thought it was good to not be Spain. "What is your name, Miss? I am afraid you didn't introduce yourself."

She didn't answer as quickly as she had with the other questions. She looked at England, only looking at his eyes. Something with him didn't sit well with her. She took a few steps closer to him and noticed his green eyes. They heard the woman hiss at the answer. It was as though they brought up some taboo. She invaded England's space, looking at him straight in his eyes. "You are like him… You are like him! Travelers from another world! Murders like the Spanish!" She screamed over and over again, making the countries ears feel like bleeding. She sounded like a banshee in pain about to pounce on her kill.

Then it stopped unexpectedly. England and France opened their eyes to only see America hovering over her with the piece of wood he grabbed earlier. "Run!" He ordered. They had one shot at escaping, and they took it without any second thoughts. They ran as fast as their legs could take them, stumbling into sacred artifacts that had no value to them compared to their endangered lives.

"Señores!" The security noticed the three. The older man spoke English afterwards, "hey, that part of the museum isn't open to the public yet!"

They didn't care. They just ran out the door. Only America had the common courteously to stop at the front desk for a brief moment. "She's alive! Run if you value your life!" The two then heard a wail of pain. The creature had woken up again. "Look, I'm telling you to run now."

The bloodcurdling howl came again, nearing the two lives. America took off, leaving the man to choose his fate. The security guard took out his loaded gun, defending the museum from whatever terror had entered it.

Suddenly, the lights began to dim down slowly as though the energy were being drained from them. Darkness finally engulfed his surroundings. Nothing left but a flashlight to lead him. Every mannequin his light landed on made him jumpy, almost squeezing the trigger. He could have sworn to have heard soft, hushed voices surrounding him, moving all over the place. He then heard little footsteps, tapping on the ground. But nothing scared him more than feeling the hot breath on his shoulder before he collapsed on the floor.

"Funny, I didn't have to touch you," the woman America brought from the grave said. She looked at all the relics on display. She could have sworn to been there the day some of these pottery pieces were made. To her left was a sad attempt at replicated clothing from her time frame. She took a mental note just in case a situation came where they would be needed.

The woman walked to the counter near the entrance. She grabbed the yearly calendar and noticed the date 2011. She didn't understand. How long have the Spanish forces raided her precious land? How many years have they destroyed lives and families when she was asleep? Too many, she thought.

"Don't worry, my brother and fellow Mexicas. I will make everything better. I will make the Spanish suffer for what they did to us. Justice will be served." A smell of iron became apparent to the wicked woman. The rustic smell overcame her until she decided to follow it. Desire pushed her to find it as though the pleasing aroma literally pulled her to it. But she put the pieces together. The smell drew her body closer because it was reacting like a tracking device, showing her the way to her destination, her prey.

* * *

**If anyone has seen the movies The Uninvited or The Ring, that's what the woman is based off of. Kinda. At least the appearance is.**

**Also, I'm not a yaoi person so don't expect anything like that. However, I love me some bromances. I will have that. Close enough? XD**


	3. Thriller

_"It's close to midnight and something evil's lurking in the dark  
Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart  
You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it  
You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes  
You're paralyzed"- Michael Jackson, "Thriller" _

* * *

America, England, and France ran back to Mexico's house with all their might. Their hearts pounded against their chests as they lifted each leg away from the scene of the crime. America led the pack by a landslide. Even though he stuffed his face with unhealthy snacks every second of every day, the boy was athletic. He was built for such physical activities. 'Across the plains of Texas, from sea to shining sea, from Detroit down to Houston, and New York to L.A.,' that movie Forrest Gump was mere child's play compared to what America usually did for his daily exercises.

The same couldn't be said for the other two. England felt a stabbing pain at his throat and side as he darted away from the museum. The Englishman wasn't in horrible shape; although, he had seen better days in the past. He and France were at a tie for second place. Though, France was already out of breath once he began moving his legs. Running wasn't on his top favorite activity doing with his body (if you catch my drift).

The three turned on the sharp corner almost slipping in the process, leading to Mexico's street. With America being in the lead, he saw his friend's home first. He mentally thanked the universe for granting him a place to take shelter in. The only one who stood in between his as well as England and France's safety was Canada. America silently cursed at himself. Now he might bring Canada into the mess he stirred up at the museum.

Meanwhile in the comfortable household, the Canadian flipped through the channels on the television completely oblivious to the situation his brother created. Earlier that evening his brother America asked (more like commanded) him to watch over Mexico's house while he, England, and France went out to do whatever. Canada was use to those three leaving him to do the boring chores while they went out and had a ball. Canada didn't agree to help his brother for his sake. Mexico was a dear friend of his. Of course, they never really talked to each other until after World War II, but she did endure America as much as he did. It was only natural that they connected with one another even if it was because they complained to one another about how much America annoyed them.

Nothing was on TV and every other channel promoted that Justin Bieber's new movie called Never Say Never. Okay, Bieber, you're cool and so original. No one in the world has said or thought of that phrase before. Canada was so grateful for getting rid of that kid and making him his brother's problem. At least Canada had Michael Bublé to share with the world. Now that guy had class and talent.

Canada heard muffles of his name from the front door as well as intense pounding on the wooden door. "Canada!" He listened. "Open the door! It's me, America!" Inwardly Canada thought, well duh. Of course it was him. Canada expected no one else at such an hour before the party. Canada, with some laziness, got up from the couch. He stretched his arms and legs before making his way to the front door where America and the others still pounded with such powerful force. America's brother opened the door, instantly noticing their red faces as they dashed inside the warm house.

"Are you guys okay?" Canada asked, but they all ignored him while they barricaded the door with a table. "What's going on?"

"America lit a candle… woman came out…" England couldn't form complete sentences since he was out of breath from running.

"Eh…?"

"Oh Canada! Zere is an evil woman is on our tail! You must 'elp us!"

"Evil woman?" Canada was so lost. None of the words they spouted at him made a lick of goddamn sense. However, Canada understood one thing, and that was seeing blood was not a good sign to anyone. "Wait France, is that blood on your jacket?"

France looked down and finally noticed the blood stains. After seeing that monstrosity appear out of nowhere, everything in life seemed like a walk in the park. France disregarded Canada's statement; however, that did not stop the other from looking deeply worried for his former caretaker. "Oui, it seems I 'ave forgotten zat."

"Tell me what's going on with you three!" Canada demanded. This seemed serious, and if it was another one of America's pranks, Canada was going to go Manada on their asses.

"Long story short: America didn't listen to directions," England managed to say through small wheezes.

"How was I suppose to know that thing was gonna come alive?" America defended.

"First off, we shouldn't have been down there. It was off limits. And second, I told you multiple times to stop! You should have listened to others. But you don't and look at what this hocus pocus got us in." England fumed. He was so angry at America and the entire situation. It was a nightmare that could have been completely avoided.

"You're right," America said defeated, "I did this to everyone. I put everyone in danger, and I'm sorry for that. But as many times as I say it, it doesn't change the fact that I have no idea of what is ahead of us." Everyone could have sworn America sounded like he was about to breakdown. He never did anything this stupid and irresponsible.

"You really are stupid, America," England's comment felt like pouring salt on a wound. It hurt America. "You have us on your side. We're never going to leave you in this ghastly situation alone." America looked up from the ground, feeling reassured. As much shit as they have been through, America always knew England had his back. "I speak for myself right now. I have no idea if France, here, will stay or run away like the little girl he is." (Yes, England managed to insult France at the last possible minute. Score One for the Brit!)

"Now wait just a second! I am zee world renowned France! I-" But France didn't finish what he started. A loud knock echoed from the front door, interrupting the country and scaring them all shitless. The four countries instantly felt terror fill their bodies. All of them pressed their backs to the wall, waiting for whatever fate had in store for them. The golden door handle twisted but never allowed the person beyond the door entry. As the door handle rotated back and forth, the countries on the other side ceased to breathe. Any minor sound could confirm their existence.

"Hello anyone there?" A familiar voice came from the other side. "Mexico, you okay? Let me in!" They all sighed in relief. It was only Spain at the door. America moved the table out of the door's way, allowing Spain to finally come in the house.

The Spaniard stormed in the house with some unusual (yet familiar to England) attire he planned on wearing to America's Halloween party, noticing his comrades and person he will never forgive named England, who continued on giving him an funny look, (oh and Canada). "What are you all doing here at Mexico's house? Shouldn't you be getting ready for your own fiesta, America?"

America as well as the others looked down at their casual clothing. The thought of America's party brought them back to reality instead of thinking about the haunting witchcraft they had just endured prior. "Oh yeah… I almost forgot about that."

"You spoke of nothing else for two weeks," said Spain. Something odd happened in this house, Spain was certain of it. Thus, he promised to find out sooner or later. He looked around and didn't see his former colony, which made Spain believe the first worst possible thought his mind could form in that moment. "YOU KILLED MEXICO!"

"How would such a horrible thought even cross your mind so quickly?" England asked with so much irritation. The Englishman looked up and down at his enemy who glared with just as much fierceness as he did. Spain wore high brown boots with buckles as well as tanned breeches. The Spaniard's white shirt was made of a thin material but was more ruffled in the front of his chest. It was tied by a dark brown sash around his waist. But what was really eye catching was the royal red color of Spain's velvet coat. It might have been a few shades darker than blood. It was so striking but not as much as the shimmering gold embroidery. It gave Spain this position of wealth and power. That very though made England scoff. What a show off, he thought. He hated this man so much that he wished he could go back in time to crush the Spanish Armada once again.

"Well, tell me where Mexico is."

England's sight landed on America as did Spain's soon after. They waited for the American's reply. "Out, but I don't know where she is exactly."

"You can't even give me a straight story. This only makes you all look more suspicious."

"Sorry that I don't keep tabs on every country I see!"

Spain imagined himself as a detective solving a grisly murder. No one spoke up; that only added to the anxiety in the air. Everyone but Canada seemed to tense up when Spain looked at them. One by one they avoided eye contact. America avoided saying anything to anyone out of the loop. This was his problem and no one else's. No one besides them three should know what happened tonight.

When Spain's eyes landed on England, they both avoided one another. Spain knew England wouldn't talk so he didn't try to get information out of his rival. Mentally they both shouted and screamed foul words to each other as though they had an internal battle. The English nation was stubborn up until this very day as was the Spaniard.

One person was left. France. And everyone knew that getting information out of him would be a piece of cake. Though, when the Spaniard looked at his amigo, he spotted something rather odd on his jacket. It was a brown, dried-up substance that looked as though someone wiped their handed over France's chest. This horrified Spain. He felt an instant, pounding pain upon his chest. It brought him back to the times of war when everyone fought like a savage to defend their lives.

"Francia," Spain sounded worried and then urgent, "what happened to your clothes? Whose blood is this?"

_Merde, _thought France. He could not think of a good excuse at the moment. His thoughts were paralyzed with fear when he remembered the woman they all encountered earlier. "What does it matter, mon ami? Look, we are all fine and well! It's not as zough our lives are in danger."

Wrong again, France, wrong again. The light bulbs in Mexico's house began to dim and then flicker on and off, causing instant dread to go down England, France, and America's spines. They knew what was near. Not any of the countries were near the light switches, making Canada and Spain on edge. Something was wrong.

The three countries who knew what exactly was happening stepped away from the front door and windows. They pressed their backs to the bare wall. Spain's back faced the front door, exposing it to whatever was after his friends. Canada, having no clue what was occurring to Mexico's place, stood near his older brother.

There was a moment of silence where even the sound of a pin hitting the ground sounded like gun shots on sounding off during a raging war. America was the first one to hear a footstep. His heart pounded at his chest as though it were about to explode. She came closer to the door. He could imagine the woman's white hands grabbing the door handle, leading the woman to her prey.

Canada felt the need to open the door, but America grabbed his arm and pulled his brother to his side. "Maybe it's Mexico," the Canadian hoped rather than said.

"It's not her. I know it already." America crushed Canada's expectations.

"What did you do?" Spain asked once again, looking directly at America still with his back to the door. They heard the doorknob turn. England and France stopped breathing for a moment. There she was. The thing they brought back to life. Seeing her in complete darkness put all their deep dark fears to shame. They lived for many centuries and saw horrible and unforgivable things, but this… This was real evil. This was true terror.

Judging from their faces, Spain concluded that Mexico had not arrived yet. He turned and noticed the odd woman right away. The Spaniard could not get a good view of her face, seeing as most of it was covered by hair, but the dim lights did not help either. He tilted his head, attempting to identify the woman. But the woman knew who he was apparently. Her eyes widened as she looked at his face then clothes. Her dark eyes gleamed with so much hate and disgust.

"You…!" she said with a dry voice as though she had not had a sip of water in ages, pointing straight at Spain, then in a clear voice cried out, "MURDERER!" The woman screamed in complete agony. If she went any louder, the countries were sure to believe she could have shattered Mexico's windows.

The young men covered their ears to muffle the noise. In the darkness, America saw the crazed woman lift her arm about to attack Spain with her long nails that resembled claws on an animal. Her actions sent Spain in a state of shock. He just stood there wide eyed as the woman screamed, driving excruciating pain through their ear drums.

The next few moments happened in broken still shots for America. As the demented woman aimed her hand to swipe Spain, another dark figure revealed itself from behind the door. In their hands was a baseball bat. The person took a swing and hit the woman directly below the ribcage. She fell like a rag doll. The mysterious person turned on the lights, exposing Mexico as their savior, who looked panicked about the situation.

"Are you guys all right?" She asked quite concerned with her left hand holding onto the bat with a tight grasp. "I heard a scream like it was coming from a banshee or something."

"Mija! You saved me!" Spain ran to his former colony with arms wide open only to be rejected by being pushed away.

"I didn't do it to save you, dummy! I had to defend my house. And stop calling me your daughter!" Mexico became frazzled at Spain. He always knew how to mess with her. As the Mexican scolded Spain for treating her like a child once again, America sighed, feeling some of the stress being lifted off of his shoulders. Mexico's presence brought some relief to America. He wasn't sure why. If she was armed with a baseball bat, Mexico might be as big of a threat as Hungary with a frying pan. Though, Prussia might beg to differ, seeing as he knew damn well how Hungary was with a frying pan in the first place. 'Nothing compares to that powerhouse,' Prussia's words made America cringe. Thank God he did not have to deal with that crazy chick.

As America's thoughts drifted back to the monstrous woman, he noticed that she did not move a muscle. It was as though the life left her once again, leaving her body look like a lifeless doll thrown on the floor by a careless child. Mexico hovered over the body with her wooden bat just in case it sprang up again to attack while blocking out Spain's persistent pleads to call him some name in Spanish.

"Stop it, Spain! Now tell me what exactly happened in my house!" Mexico demanded bringing a stiff silence afterwards. The ones who knew of the happenings prior that evening had no intention of sharing the news. It was too dreadful.

"I have no idea. I arrived a few minutes before you did. You have to ask these four," said Spain, pointing to the four countries behind him who gave him dirty looks (except for Canada) for ratting them out.

"Look we can explain just-"

"Give me answers now, America. I'm not going to let you make up an excuse," Mexico said in a stern voice, pointing her bat directly at America's chest. The look in her eyes sent shivers down his spine. They almost spoke to America as though they said, 'I am seriously ticked off right now.' She had him cornered with no way of running.

"I…" America tried his best to pick the words carefully, but only parts of certain words came out of his dry mouth, making it inaudible for the rest to comprehend. All the while America tried to explain the disastrous pickle he brought on his friends and possibly the entire world, the countries for a split second forgot about the other person in the room, the one they thought was unconscious on the floor. But she wasn't out cold. In fact, she never was in the first place. The woman played the part so the others in the room would let their guard down, therefore, giving her the opportune moment to strike.

Before America regained the ability to form a complete sentence to begin his storytelling, he saw a blurred figure move at the speed of light behind Mexico. A chill of horror shot through his entire body. It made him paralyzed as well as England, France, and Canada who stood side by side one another. They witnessed the attack head on. Spain, who was next to Mexico, did not see the assault on his former colony. From the corner of his green eye, he saw arms wrap around her body searching for a position to lock on. One white arm reached for Mexico's throat, an attempt to strangle her. But Spain knew better. He raised her and knew the blood that ran through her veins; he saw the fierce warrior inside Mexico in times of great danger. It was like witnessing the revival of the Aztec Empire.

Mexico ran backwards toward one of her walls, slamming the woman's body in between. It weakened the woman's grip on Mexico for a second. It was a moment not wasted. The crazed woman noticed the tumbling glass vase on the table near where she was. She grabbed it and used the wall to break it into countless pieces. Then, she grabbed one and pushed it against Mexico's throat. The country was too slow in running away from her capturer. Mexico let out a small yelp as she felt a warm liquid run down her neck. The insane woman pushed the sharp edge too close but never inflicted great damage to Mexico… yet anyway.

Finally, after all this time, America got a good look at what he created. The woman's dark hair was out of her face, showing the America and the rest of the gang the true terror in both the woman's face and eyes. America could have sworn he looked at the face of death. He tightened his hands into a fist, hiding his trembles. Though he was scared beyond comprehension, America felt this unimaginable rage circulate through his whole body when the woman's lips formed a wicked grin. A glint of insanity showed in her eyes. There was nothing any of the five countries could do at this point. They had to wait until the woman to let her guard down in order for Mexico to get out safely. There was no telling what this thing was capable of or how heartless she truly was.

As much as she wanted to get out, Mexico knew better than to struggle. The glass blade pointed more at her throat with each breath she took. God knows, how deep the woman would puncture her skin if she tried to escape her grasp. Even if she wanted to take that risk, the woman held back Mexico's arms, making it impossible to move.

"Don't any of you move closer!" The woman demanded, holding the glass shard closer to Mexico's neck. "If you all even flinch the wrong way, I will kill her."

The need to protect Mexico rose in Spain. He had to do something for her even if she refused any help from him after her declaration of independence all those years ago. He did raise her like his own daughter after all just like it was with the rest of his colonies. Spain opened his mouth in order to persuade the woman, but he didn't have the chance to, seeing as the woman already had a cold, hard look on him. That was a reaction Spain did not get regularly, America observed. Usually woman (and the female countries) threw themselves at the Spaniard but not this one. She was different. Too different.

"Don't you dare come near me, you monster!" That was odd. The woman who was the embodiment of death itself criticized Spain being the fiend. Funny how the world works. Whenever she woman opened her mouth, Mexico always winced away from the opening. The smell of decay must have been revolting.

"Okay…" Spain put his hands up, showing the woman he had no plan to attack. "Please be gentle with her. She is like a daughter to me. You wouldn't want to destroy our family now, would you?"

"You know all about destroying family ties," Mexico's capturer hissed, inching the shard deeper into Mexico's throat. Mexico gasped in response, causing the others to panic. America was the one who almost jumped in to save the day, but instead he shouted…

"Mexico!"

A sudden spark of interest came upon the woman's face. At first she looked to Spain's worried and panicked face then at the country locked in her grip. The woman examined each feature on Mexico's tanned face as though the answers would just jump out. Mexico continued to avoid the woman's stench at all cost, but it was no use. The wicked one just pulled her in closer.

"What is your name, girl?" She asked in such a low hiss it made Mexico's skin crawl.

"Mexico," she said through clenched teeth.

"Your whole name," she ordered, making the other countries jump back.

Before she answered, Mexico gulped, which was noticeable to the other countries before her, and managed to look at the woman, leaving a deep impression on her. "My name is Mexico Tenochtitlan. Happy now?"

A cruel smirk formed on the woman's lips as though she had found out a deep dark secret or treasure lost to time very long ago. She leaned in closer to Mexico with her trademark wicked grin. Mexico felt the heat of her hot breath on her slim neck.

"Very much," said the woman before she yanked out a chunk of Mexico's dark brown hair. Mexico let out a hair-raising screech after the action was done. America saw the woman running out the door, leaving everyone in shock and horror. The American glanced at his friend Mexico. The female reached behind her head, rubbing the sensitive area for comfort. She hissed at the throbbing pain that radiated at the back of her head. Mexico retraced her hand and confirmed what she feared. She bled. Not much but enough to get Spain, who was already by her side, worried. America noticed the wooden bat on the floor and grabbed it in a swift movement as he ran out after her, hoping to end what he had created.

Unfortunately, the only thing that America saw outside of Mexico's house was a cold, dreary atmosphere that welcomed him with goose bumps on his arms. His breath was visible in the street lights. America looked around frantically, examining every shadow and movement that his blue eyes caught, but it was useless. The woman was gone. Where? To cause more mayhem or back to hell, he had no idea. The American rubbed his cold face with his free hand then hair as he muttered the word 'shit' under his breath over and over again. It was a habit he did when he had not a single clue of what to do. He just let loose a mad woman in the world and possibly created an enemy of the entire world.

"America!" He heard Mexico call out his name. The young man turned to see his friend in a frantic state. She of all of them deserved answers. "What the hell was that?"

America, feeling absolutely guilty, ignored his pride for once accepted that he was in deed in the wrong. The American walked back into the Mexican's house and escorted Mexico to a chair in her living room. Spain, who had no idea what was going on, felt compelled to know what happened. The odd woman had this obvious aggression towards him right from the get-go. The Spaniard sat on the arm of the chair Mexico sat in.

Canada, who was out of the loop once again, almost called the police, but France stopped him from dialing the numbers on the phone. The Frenchman told the Canadian to sit down and listen that everything will be explained soon enough. Canada did as he was told by his former guardian. Though, he kept to himself like he usually did, but France stood near him, reassuring the younger one that he was safe. Despite France being a borderline creep, he had good intentions deep down—really deep down.

England leaned against the wall, calming himself down from the previous event. He never said anything out loud, but he blamed himself for the entire thing. If he had better control over America, none of this would happen. That was what he forced himself to believe. After his inner battle, England stood next to America, ready to explain the current situation with the strange woman to attacked Mexico.

At first, there was a fierce surge of anger that pierced through Mexico's eyes to America when she heard what they did in the museum. Then, she became frightened when the three described the horrifying experience they endured. They left no detail out when they described the woman's resurrection. The noticeable sense of fear in Mexico's eyes and body language made a lump form in America's throat. He owed her big time for this. Mexico wanted to pound America to a bloody pulp for what he did, but it was obvious he was torn up about the whole thing as well.

On the other hand, Spain's reaction was a bit different from his past colony's. At the beginning when England mentioned what they found in the museum concerning the Spanish conquistadors, Spain's face had a hint of dread like a child had been caught in a lie by a strict parent. His green eyes flashed back to Mexico continually to see her reaction.

The only emotion Mexico showed was frustration. The female country rested her elbows on her legs as her hands covered her face. America sensed an unlimited amount of hate towards him as her brown eyes met his blue ones. Mexico leaned her back against the back of the chair, holding in as much aggravation as she possibly could. To the others, Mexico looked relaxed, but seeing as he lived next door to her for years—centuries—America knew better. It was only a matter of time until she exploded all over the place.

"So what you are telling me," she began, "is that a crazy woman is running around my city whom you so rightfully brought back from the dead in a museum in which you pretty much snuck into." Oh she was pissed beyond reason. The hate dripped from her words and tone. America was never going to hear the end of it.

"Well when you put it that way—"

"Dammit America!" Mexico shot up from her comfy seat in a rage. "You always do this to me! You always make fun of me. You and most of your citizens spread lies about how I screw up your lives and take your jobs. But I never, not once, do that to you! I always look the other way when you mess around my place and fool around with your annoying attitude! But not today! I'm sick of it. You pushed me too far this time!"

The feeling of shame just completely took over America at this point. He didn't want to hear the hurt she hid from the others in the room. "Look, I know I screwed everything up! You don't need to tell me that. I will fix this."

"How?" Mexico was on the verge of screaming her lungs out. "Do you have the slightest idea of stopping what you started? No you don't. And you know why? It's because you don't have the mental capacity to remember what you did yesterday."

"What are you talking about?" The comment stung America deep in his core like feeling a giant bee sting to the heart.

"Honestly, Mexico, don't you think you are being a bit standoffish?" And here came England like a knight in shining armor to aid America in the hot spot. "I mean, yes, America is a twat on many levels, but—"

Mexico didn't want to hear any objections. "England, right now, you and Canada are the only ones in the room I put up with. I won't allow France anywhere near me –right now is an exception-, and Spain can't take the hint of me not wanting him around even though I avoid him like the plague. So if you want to stay on my good side, please let me scold America for a while longer."

Damn that itch to make sure his colony (former or not) was safe and secure. England just went straight in once again. "Yes, yes, I know how you feel. I've been in your position many times before, but with all due respect, America doesn't deserve this. He doesn't learn by scolding. I know that from experience."

By this time Mexico faced England as well as the rest of the countries in the room, leaving her back to America. Mexico looked over her shoulder to her neighbor. "America, remember when you begged me to teach you Spanish?"

"—I never begged—"

"America!"

"Yes!"

"Do you remember how that day went?"

"Uh… Let's see…" America thought back all those moons ago. It was a bit hazy but the country remembered it for the most part. "We started for -I don't know how long—then I got hungry. I suggested Taco Bell to be festive for the occasion even though you refused to eat any of it. I even afford to pay for your lunch. Anyways, after I got food, we got back and—"

"And," Mexico interjected, "you gave up. What phrases did you learn after two hours?"

America perked up for some reason the others weren't quite sure why. "Soy America! Soy un hero!" He seemed proud by his words even though it reeked of a horrible white accent.

Spain, who wasn't really close to America or the conversation, facepalmed at the boy's sad attempt at his beautiful language. Although France and England weren't the most fluent ones in Spanish –especially England, who vowed to stay away from his nemesis's language by all means —knew or had a feeling the American was far from correct. As for Canada, it was apparent his brother was wrong. After seeing everyone's reactions to his words, America's wide grin faded away, leaving him feeling very sheepish.

"And he doesn't have the decency to say that correctly," said Mexico as she rubbed her fingertips against her temples.

"I have no idea what me knowing Spanish as to do with this whole thing, but I told you I'll make everything better," America's voice sounded stern with no hints of joking unlike before. America's eyes surveyed everyone in the room. They all had doubt in him once again. "Hey, what's with you all? We can do this! Lookie here," America wrapped his arm around England's shoulder though to England it felt like he was being strangled. The American's other arm reached out to Spain. "We have the former British and Spanish Empire—"

"FORMER?" Both England and Spain howled. They didn't like that word 'former' at all. No way was a snot nose kid of a country going to talk like that to them in their presence.

"I'll have you know-"

"Oh the details! They don't matter! Just hear me out for a second," America interrupted to avoid another mess he caused, "We have you and Spain, two amazingly, strong empires who were at their highest peak some point in history," (England scoffed at the remark, but it was better than being belittled) "and, of course, there is me, America!" The rest rolled their eyes. There America goes on his hero tangent once again. The American dashed to Mexico's side. She instinctively gravitated away from him, but he held her by his side. Curse his superhuman strength, she thought. "And we have you my dear friend!"

"Me?" America's statement caught Mexico off guard. It flattered her too, but she couldn't let America notice her reaction. "Why are you bringing me into this?"

"'Cause this is your home, and I'm 99.9% sure you want it safe. Plus, you must have a better idea about what's going on here, am I right?"

"I suppose." Mexico's brown eyes caught a sticker of some sort sticking on the outside of America's jacket. Mexico's quick reach toward his waist made the American squirm backwards unlike Mexico, who was unaware of how uncomfortable she made him for a brief moment in time. Afterwards, America realized that Mexico just reached for the sticky note he found in the museum earlier that night. The woman took it and read the writing. "Nahual…?"

"Yeah, I found it before all this craziness started. I wasn't sure what it meant." America scratched the back of his head due to embarrassment. "—you have any idea what it is?" Mexico continued to gaze at the piece of paper, but it was clear to everyone else that she hadn't the slightest idea of what it meant. Spain and America were the only ones who knew how bad Mexico's memory was or were aware of its extent. They knew she could not remember her childhood before Spain took care of her. It was a sad thought, but everyone figured she was just too little to remember anything in her young state. Besides, no one bothered to ask Mexico about her past. Whether it did not cross their minds or they just flat out didn't care in the slightest way, America did not know for sure. America, who stood in front of his friend, noticed her predicament instantly. He sighed and said, "Look, if you don't know, we can search for it in a library or some—"

"—witch," Mexico cut off her neighbor, "If I'm not mistaken, it means 'witch,' but there is more to it. I just can't remember the last bit."

"Let me see it," Spain spoke up finally. The Spaniard hadn't made his voice known since the strange woman scared them all. Spain took the paper from Mexico and examined it as well. Judging by the look on America's face, he did not expect much out of Spain. If Mexico was not sure of the word's meaning, why would Spain of all people know it? A few moments later, Spain looked at Mexico with a worried face. "It is a shape shifting witch," the man stated. The countries in the room left a shockwave of fear release through the entire house. They had another difficult obstacle to endure.

They looked worried. Mexico covered her open mouth with both of her hands. Her dark eyes still showed her true emotion of terror. A part of her cursed at herself for not knowing the urgency of the word sooner.

"No way! You've got to be kidding me," America was in denial. He refused to hear the word 'witch' or anything else associated with it. No way would a hero allow an evil witch to walk the earth. "Witchcraft doesn't exist! I should know. Remember the Salem Witch Trials all those centuries ago? It was all a lie some girls made up. And how did you of all people know what that word meant, Spain?" America sounded more aggravated then he truly was. His question was more like a demand.

"I have my reasons," Spain began, "I practically raised Mexico, and I had to understand some of her language before she could learn mine."

"Her language…? You mean you didn't speak Spanish the whole time, Mexico?" The fact that Spain and Mexico was located on two opposing sides of the world map never registered to America.

Mexico scoffed and folded her arms across her chest before adding, "Of course not! I was very young at the time, but I knew Nahuatl."

"God bless you…?" To America, the word sounded like Mexico sneezed.

"I didn't sneeze dummy. That's my native language. Well… it was before Spanish became the prime one. My mother's language is almost gone now." A strange, awkward atmosphere came upon the two then the rest. Everyone looked up at Mexico to see if she would continue her statement while Spain fidgeted where he stood. America couldn't quite explain the feeling. It was like he stepped on a mine in the field of battle. Not everyone had a pleasant colonization period.

"Mother? You had a mom?" America seemed shocked by the word.

"SÍ," Mexico responded, noticing the dumbfounded faces of the rest, "She was the Aztec Empire. What's so weird about that?"

America's jaw dropped. He never imagined putting the pieces together. This was mind-blowing news to him. "Let me get this straight. Your mom was this badass empire? What happened to you?"

"Excuse me?" America and Mexico's argument escalated to the point of where the rest of the countries in the room hadn't the slightest idea of what insults they shouted at one another. Canada was use to this as was everyone, but France, Spain, and England only saw them during World Meetings. Canada saw them at it more often since they did make up the continent North America.

Mexico began yell Spanish slurs at America, who raised his volume up a few notches as well. This left England with a painful headache. To avoid his headache from growing worse, he kept thinking about how to stop the monster by replaying scenes in his head of the earlier events, drowning out the yells in the room. One he focused on more than the rest. He recalled when America read him and France the article about the Aztecs. His thoughts focused on what America read. A chilling feeling ran down his back once his mind comprehended what America said. If he was not mistaken, the phrase went along the lines of 'Spanish conquistadors defeated the Aztecs'. England's green eyes landed on Spain, who still looked out of place due to his clothing. If what England remembered was correct, Spain killed Mexico's mother. Unfortunately, England couldn't confront Spain right now. He had to deal with another fight raging in Mexico's living room.

The Englishman felt the need to be the rhyme and reason yet again. Heaven knows when the arguing between those two would actually stop. Sure, England had a few err—many disputes with France, but they always managed to stop, though, most of the time it ended in a physical brawl. But with America and Mexico… the verbal fight could last for hours and possibly days on end. England knew stopping them from continuing was in everybody's best interest.

"Now, now, calm yourselves you two," England broke up their verbal insults, "it's best to put our differences aside for the mean time, seeing as we all need each other in this appalling situation. I mean, France and I are a prime example. We can't stand being near each other for more than five minutes—"

"—seconds—" France corrected.

"Regardless, we are going to be civil to one another for as long as this circumstance America put us in lasts. I hope you two do the same."

"Fine," America and Mexico said in unison before they took a quick glance at the other. England sighed at the difficult task of making sure the two would not go at it like cats and dogs.

"Anyone 'ave the slightest idea of 'ow were going t stop zis woman?"

"She can't have gone too far," England said looking like he was formulating a plan on the spot. "Assuming she is an Aztec—"

"Why are you assuming that?" America asked, breaking England's concentration.

"She resurrected in an old Aztec temple and screamed when she saw Spain; therefore, I'm presuming she was around when Spain began his conquest," answered England with a hint of annoyance.

"—that makes sense," America grumbled, feeling like an idiot.

"Now if I remember correctly, the Spanish Conquest began in 1521," England searched for Spain before saying, "am I right, Spain?"

"SÍ."

"That's approximately four hundred and ninety years in between now and then." England paced back and forth in Mexico's living room as though he tried to decipher his own words. "Can I guess that a lot has changed since the two dates?"

"Actually," Mexico spoke up, "Mexico City is where Tenochtitlan once stood. Most of what my mother built is replaced with what we now know as Mexico City. That's where my name comes from, Mexico Tenochtitlan."

A prickling pain came upon England. He was appalled by the conditions Mexico grew up with. Granted, he may not have been the best caretaker –just take a look at America—but England made sure all of his colonies were safe and well taken care after.

"—this is the plan, guys," America spoke up once again. England lost focused on this thought; though, it stood in the back of his mind. "If that monster doesn't know where she is going, then she is gonna go back to a place she is familiar with. The museum!" The others had blank, unconvinced faces when they looked at America. "Just hear me out for a minute! Mexico said Tenocht-something has been replaced. That chick doesn't know the modern world so she is probably hiding out until she figures out where she is."

"America does have a point." Everyone's head turned in surprise to Mexico, the one who spoke. "We have the advantage right now so let's make the most of it!"

"Wait hold on just a second," America rebuffed, "no way in hell are you going to become a part of this Mexico!"

"Maybe you should have thought of my safety as well as the rest of my citizens when you purposefully refused to listen to directions." The comment easily shut up America. She was right. She usually was. "I am going to protect my land and people, and I'll be damned if I let you stop me, America."

The intensity in Mexico's eyes scared America, but he also admired it. She was a fierce competitor and took shit from no one. That was why he grew attached to her and managed to keep a close friendship. But his pride got in the way once again; he didn't want Mexico to know about his feelings so he acted aloof like he usually did. "Fine but if I hear you complain even once I won't let you live it down. Got it?"

"Like I would ever give you the pleasure in doing that!"

* * *

**I would have added much more, but that would have been a really super long chapter. Forgive me for making the Empires' appearance so cliffhanger-ish.**

**I kinda based Mexico off of what my experience is with Mexican people like family and friends as well as myself. I think she would be this headstrong person because she kind of has to be. I mean America is her freakin' neighbor. So you have to be on it every second of every day.  
**


	4. Ruins As They Were

_"I must spill yet more blood, so the blood already spilt will not be in vain." -Lelouch, Lamperouge, "Code Geass"  
_

* * *

After much deliberation and planning, the group of nations finally made their way to the museum. Canada stayed behind; however, it was not by his choice. His older brother America made it very clear that he didn't want anyone else a part of his mess. Mexico was the only exception even though America tried to convince her otherwise. She wanted to help out (with her metal baseball bat in hand at all times). She was a force to be reckoned with, needless to say.

Though America had no intention of including anyone else, Spain promised to help out by all means, seeing as he encountered the Aztec people centuries beforehand. He held useful information that would benefit America in the long run. So America agreed, but after that he vowed to no longer involve anyone who didn't already know about the woman.

There was another fight brewing between the countries, and that one was over how the sitting arrangement in America's hot red Ford Mustang was going down. Spain kept insisting on Mexico sitting next to him in case she became frightened. His argument was he could finally have a chance to take care of her like the dotting father he was. Though, Mexico thought differently since her defense was insisting that the damn Spaniard was not in fact her dad.

America tried his best to come to Mexico's rescue and argued with the others, saying that he couldn't have them making advances on the southern part of North America. In response, Mexico just rolled her eyes and sat in the front. That left one unhappy camper in the back right in between two members of the self proclaimed Bad Touch Trio. England got the extra seat in between Spain and France, his two worst enemies. None of the countries in the back looked happy at all. There grew an unbearable stiffness in the air as America drove down the Mexican streets in the night.

The stuffy atmosphere made America uncomfortable. He glanced at Mexico who crossed her arms and sat back in her seat next to him. She looked like her bad mood grew worse. Since America was the hero and all, he should put on some jams to ease the uncomfortable environment in his car. He came to the conclusion that music would solve their problems. No one could resist the amazingness that AC/DC's song 'Highway to Hell' brought when it came on the radio. It was both awesome and appropriate for the situation. The American took his right hand off the steering wheel and pushed one of the glowing buttons. A slow strumming of guitar strings began after the click. Then the words "_America, America_," followed, earning the American strange looks from his friends around him. Outwardly, America kept on a poker face. Inside, he yelled at himself for not taking out his CD of songs to play before a world meeting. The beat got faster and louder. Suddenly the countries were surrounded by lyrics saying, "_America, FUCK YEAH! Coming again, to save the mother fucking day yeah! America, FUCK YEAH! Freedom is the only way yeah!_"

"What the bloody hell is this rubbish, America?"

"You didn't hear anything!" America tried his hardest to change the song but he missed the button every time due to the bumpy road. In an attempt to block out the embarrassing lyrics, America began to yell very loud. It was futile though. The lyrics kept on going on, making America wish he could crawl in a hole and die. "_So lick my butt, and suck on my balls, America, FUCK YEAH!_"

Silence surrounded the countries in the car once again only this time America felt all their eyes on him. He couldn't confirm it, seeing as he glued his eyes to the road ahead. From the side, America could see Mexico still staring at him with probably a creeped out look on her face. He sighed before saying, "it gets the blood pumpin'." (His excuse for that dreadful song) The others just left the answer as was. Nothing in America's mind made sense.

When the group turned the corner, the countries noticed that the lights in the museum weren't on; making it look like an old building abandoned a long time ago. Everyone appeared to have terror in their eyes, but knowing they had to face this nightmare head on, they pushed their fear to the side for now. America did that especially. He brought this creature back to life, and he would damn well put her on the express trip back to hell. He owed that to everyone. So the American licked his lips and led his small team of fighters to their enemy.

The countries took a few steps into the dark museum, not having a clue on what to do. In an instant, Mexico noticed the knocked out security guard on the floor. She went to his side and checked his pulse, reassuring her that no one had died due to America's mistake. Her small hand wondered to the unconscious man's flashlight. It would be wise to use all the resources life threw at them.

America tried so hard to not make a joke; therefore, he focused his thoughts on something more serious. "Okay guys, game time!" The others turned to their 'leader.' The others never cemented the whole idea that America was the leader, but it was easier for everyone to just let the twat—er American, I mean- think it. America pointed two of his fingers to both Mexico and Spain. "You two need to be in separate groups," the country stated.

"Why?"

"We might run into a sit-e-ation where we have to speak Spanish hence why I'm splitting you two up. Now for the rest of us," America said as he examined France and England. It was a tough decision. For one, he didn't want to pair France with Mexico. The Frenchie would just take advantage of the whole situation. Having England on the team would be very beneficial too, but pairing England with France is worse than having to endure a two hour boring class with a monotone speaking teacher. "I got it! England go with—"

"I refuse to be paired with Spain and France."

"Good 'cause I was gonna have you team up with Mexico anyways. Problem solved! And the rest can come with me!"

"Wait!" Mexico spoke up finally, hoping to clarify a few unsaid things. "What exactly are we looking for? I mean—yes the weird lady but what else should we keep an eye out for? And why are we splitting up? Wouldn't it be better to stick together?"

Dang it, Mexico! She was ruining the fun by questioning everything! "Because—Because my group is going to where I screwed up before. I promised to tag you along, but I refuse to let you be in the middle of everything. You're a woman so you might get in the way." (It took every ounce of Mexico's strength to not punch America in the face at that point.) "And out of everyone here, I trust England will do the best at keeping you safe. Therefore, you and England need to stay here and if anything were to happen to us—which nothing will—" America had to add the last part in. France was already about to say some nonsense to get out of the group. "We just need others to make a quick get away to warn others about what's happening at your place."

"I zeenk I will be much 'elpful wiz zees group," France said as we walked over to Mexico and England. He didn't get too far, seeing as Mexico raised her baseball bat up on purpose. England had a smug look on his face when France made a quick turn back next to Spain. It was as though Mexico read England's mind. The two didn't want France anywhere near them. The one thing they bonded on over the years. Oh and also how much America bothered the holy hell out of them.

"We'll take a look around up here for suspicious activity," said England, "I don't want you lot to have all the fun."

"'kay, but when there's trouble you know who to call," America mumbled the last part as though it was a song. "Don't hesitate to do so." The two parties split afterwards in opposite directions with each member shaking in their boots.

* * *

In the first group of countries, England led the way with his attention fully on the artifacts in the museum. He went down the opposite way of where he previously went with America and France. He didn't have the luxury of light. Darkness shrouded England's entire surroundings, which proved to be difficult in such a vast, open area of space. The only source of light he had was that from his cell phone, which didn't help him out all that much. He had been through worse situations, he presumed. Even if the task of looking in the dark proved to be difficult, England always had Mexico to rely on.

Speaking of which, Mexico was not far behind. She seemed interested in the relics as well, which seemed odd to England. She should have visited this place before since it's pretty much a live history book. Then again, they were walking encyclopedias of their nations as well. He was surprised Mexico wasn't sharing stories about her past. That just made everything a tad bit more uncomfortable.

"So…" he began.

"So?"

God save the Queen, England didn't know how painful starting a conversation would be. He never had a problem talking to Mexico before. Looking back on it, the two were never left alone together. There was always at least a third party involved when they had a chat. England silently hoped for America to hurry up and complete his business to save England from embarrassing himself. After some thought, England imagined he must have looked like a train wreck in front of Mexico. He kept pacing back and forth in the room, rubbing his head. Now that he realized it, he was kind of sweaty.

"Are you okay, England?" Mexico couldn't help but ask. It was entertaining seeing England like this. That was why Mexico formed a smile but quickly bit her lips to hide it.

"Yes, everything is fine and dandy," England replied, calming down already. He turned to her. A thought crossed his mind. Mexico should be the one panicking, not he. Why was she calm? "May I ask why you are so composed? Our situation right now is far from ideal."

"True, but this is America we are talking about. And when he does something wrong –as a nation or as a person—he tries very hard to make up for it. I trust him."

Mexico's answer pleased England. It was nice hearing good compliments from others for his former colony despite their rough history. He probably looked like a damn fool right now. Curses! England had to change the subject and fast. The only thing that came to mind was Spain, and that was because England just so happened to be staring at a plaque that had his name in big letters.

"I say Mexico, I don't see how you can stand a twat like Spain. I've been dealing with him far longer than you yet I still can't stand the sight of him."

"It's the same reason why you and I put up with America." England stopped and looked directly at Mexico in one swift motion. He looked like a burglar caught in the act of robbing a store. Mexico just smiled at his guilty reaction. She was accountable for having the same emotion as well. "They screw up, but they do whatever it takes to make things better. He got under my skin like America did with you, don't get me wrong. But… Spain raised me when I had no one. I know it looks like I push him away, but it's mostly because of my pride. And for some reason I think he enjoys trying to win my affection. " (England scoffed then rolled his eyes. Spain was such a disgusting pig sometimes.) "As for America, there is something about that Americano that we love and can't get enough of. Am I right? Err- don't tell them I said that. I'll never hear the end of it."

"Well I wouldn't say I agree with your statement," England mumbled off trying to hide his reaction. Mexico was so spot on it wasn't even funny. England asked for something to take his mind off of what Mexico had just said. Like a miracle from above, England discovered broken shards of glass on the floor, leading him to their origin an empty glass case. "Mexico, look at this." He called her over, and she responded quickly.

Mexico noticed what England found. She leaned in to see what was missing. "There should be treasures here from what the description says. But the main attraction so to speak is a headpiece made with quetzal feathers bordered with gold and pearls."

"Quetzal? What is that?"

"It was a sacred bird from what I remember. When I was a little girl probably even before that, their feathers were worth more than gold—to the Mexica people anyway- not the Spanish explorers, obviously. They all wanted gold."

"How odd." England's eyes wondered off to the other glass cases next to the broken one. In them were various types of jewelry with different and unique stones on them. They were untouched strange enough. They were old artifacts, no doubt about that; however, they still looked valuable in a shoplifter's eye. These would have been the first to go in a 'normal' robbery. "These ones are left behind. Gold and jewels."

"That is weird."

"I'm not demeaning anything luxurious in your past, Mexico, but wouldn't these pieces be the first on a robber's list to steal? And not bird feathers?"

"I see what you're saying," Mexico said as she lifted her hand to her chin, touching it as if she were unlocking deep secrets of the past. "That information isn't really common sense. People have to research it to find that out. I only know it since I was physically there when it was being traded. But—to steal it now just seems… meaningless—if that's the right word to say."

"If a mere common thief were running around looking for goods to steal, their first instincts wouldn't tell them to take feathers when there is gold laying around."

"Something doesn't feel right," Mexico remarked as she rubbed her neck where the woman threatened the shard against her throat.

"Is something wrong, Mexico?" England asked. The look in Mexico's eyes disturbed him. She was startled, and that didn't happen regularly.

"That woman… when she," Mexico stopped for a moment to straighten out her words, "when she held me, that look in her eyes terrified me."

"Believe me, I had the same reaction you had—probably worse. I almost shat myself." England didn't realize the chuckle in his voice when he recalled the memory. Thinking back at how scared he was triggered such an emotion. But he stopped and knew it wasn't time for a relaxed and comfortable atmosphere yet. "What we saw—it wasn't normal, natural for that matter. It was something out of a horror movie. Only it was worse; it was real. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my existence as a country before."

"It knew my name." England turned to Mexico quickly once he heard the crack in her voice. She stared at him with a worried look. Though England focused on her face, he noticed her arms and legs trembling. "She knew my name," the Mexican repeated. "She knew my whole name. How did she know that?"

England walked next to Mexico. He patted her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down or even relief her of her worries. Though in his attempt to ease her fret, he felt her tremble under his touch. "I don't know why she knew that about you. Hell, even I didn't know. Nothing we are dealing with as of now makes sense, but I can assure you that we will get through this."

England's words seemed to have calmed Mexico down. She shook less as she took in deeper breaths. Sensing Mexico's quite stiff movements, England rubbed her arms with his hand to help calm her down faster. He was an amazing brother, if he did say so himself; though, some people didn't recognize or appreciate his affectionate brotherliness sometimes. "Like you said earlier," England began to speak again, "America, though he is a bit bonkers, he will to whatever he can to make things better. It's the hero in him." England felt his face form into a smile. It was unfortunate that he still cared for America after all this time. He looked at Mexico, who covered her grin with one of her hands. They both had dirt on each other so they knew the other wouldn't rat them out.

It was about time their moment come to an end. They had to solve this puzzle soon before anyone seriously got hurt. And so, England turned with his dim cell phone light leading the way only to be caught off by a strange creature of the night. It took all of the strength in England's body to not let out a loud scream. Instead he said, "Blimey! What the bloody hell is that!" The flashlight landed on a strange, orange design, resembling some sort of distorted face. It was massive to say the least. Unlike England's reaction, Mexico was calm and cool much different from her earlier attitude about the strange woman.

"Don't worry, England. It's only a butterfly," she said walking up to the figure, holding out a hand to touch it.

"That's no butterfly. It's huge!"

"Well of course it is! It's only a stuffed one of the actual butterflies. It's so people can really admire the patterns of their wings." Mexico stepped to the side, examining the other room more thoroughly. "I heard they added a monarch butterfly exhibit in here a while ago. I guess this must be it."

"Why on Earth would they do that? This place is about your history, no? So why add butterflies into the mix?"

"Their migration is famous and starts here, that's why. It's really beautiful." The Englishman heard Mexico exhale a large sigh almost as if she were in a dreamy mood. "Oh hey England! I know you're into witchcraft and weird things like that—"

"I am not!"

"I'm not trying to make fun of you in any way… I just wanted to let you know that Aztecs believed butterflies were happy deceased souls. Weird right? I guess the story goes that their loved ones came back to Earth to make sure they were okay. It's kind of sad to think about, but in its own way, it's hopeful and sort of sweet."

Mexico's eyes had a yearning for something important, England observed his friend. A part of her wished the tale was true. He guessed Mexico longed to meet someone who died a while back ago. It was heartbreaking to see such a sight. Any country or human who went through that type of pain hurt even those around them.

"Mex-"the Englishman stopped, lifting his light passed Mexico to the wall behind her. A picture caught his attention. It looked like an ordinary one, but something about it didn't settle right with England. His eyebrows knitted to together as his face turned into one that showed nothing but absolute confusion.

"England…?" Mexico seemed worried about him from the sound of her tone.

He couldn't take his eyes off of the painting. It captured him in some strange way. It had a sense of nostalgia. It was only of a man with richly decorated attire. He stood with such confidence even with a bloody background behind him. The man had green eyes and brown hair- shit. That was it. That was why he felt attached to it. The man looked like Spain. It was the exact replica of him. He even got the clothes right. That couldn't have been a good sign.

England turned to Mexico, who was about to place her hand on his shoulder. "Mexico, who does this painting remind you of?"

The young lady took a quick peek at the work of art. When it hit her, her eyes opened as well as her mouth. "Spain," she replied with a tone of aw. "Wow, it looks just like him! That's so weird."

As Mexico continued to gaze at the painting, still taken back by the resemblance, England looked at the title of the picture. "Implevit Desiderium," he mumbled, not sure what to make of it. "It's Latin."

"Isn't that a dead language," asked Mexico as England took a picture of the painting information.

"Yes, for a long time," England responded. "However, some of it still exists in some of the Romance languages such as Spanish for one—Italian, French, Portuguese, and so on—but that's not our main concern right now."

"What is?" Mexico sounded unsure. The urgency in England's voice scared her a bit.

"This painting was drawn in 1522. A year after the Aztec Empire fell, am I right?" Mexico nodded, and England continued taking, "We're presuming that the woman we encountered has some connection to the past—assuming she is an Aztec—"

"Mexica, they are called Mexica," Mexico interrupted to correct England.

"Yes right, but if she died when the empire fell, she knows who Spain is, the Spanish anyway."

"I understand that, but why are you obsessing over the painting?"

"This man whether he is or isn't Spain has an uncanny resemblance to him, right? He even has the same clothing like Spain does tonight."

"So if she sees him… Spain will be danger."

"Precisely."

"That's why she screamed when she saw him at my house," Mexico's voice sounded broken as she put the pieces together one by one. "She knew exactly who he was."

"We have to let them know what they are up against or at least warn Spain of the danger he is walking in on personally."

* * *

The three other countries traveled deeper into the museum's structure with nothing ahead of them but the lights from their cell phones. America led the group once again; however, this time it wasn't by choice. France stayed behind everyone like the chicken he truly was, hoping his position would give him the best chance to escape quickly. Spain on the other hand followed America closer than he expected. America just assumed Spain wanted to get this entire thing over with. A country's past was a difficult thing to face. UGGGGGGGGH. All this serious talk and silence made America's brain hurt like Hell!

Right as the young man looked around for an object to go off about, America's eyes locked on a painting. He pointed his cell phone's dim light on it, showing him the true nature of the painting. It demonstrated the Aztec's infamous sacrifices. Blood covered the bodies and most of the area surrounding it and the Aztec priests. It was probably nothing compared to being there. The screams as the people being killed in front of an audience haunted America's thoughts even though he was just imagining it. Most of their culture had been lost to the world for centuries. It was unfortunate how their most violent and sacred part was looked down upon. It made America pity them. He didn't have the cleanest past at all. But he was certain that his citizens had pride being American. Or so he hoped so.

"Hey Spain," America spoke up, not thinking his question through, "were the Aztecs as violent as people say they were? Like, how crazy were their human sacrificing? I mean, you can't make that stuff up." The question didn't deem inconsiderate to America until after he noticed Spain's offended reaction.

After thinking the reply over in his mind, Spain answered, "Worse. The cries for help, the smell of burning, rotting flesh… I can still remember them to this day. We've all seen death. It's part of the deal when you are a country, but people purposefully killing others in such a gruesome way never leaves you."

"Were they all like that?" (Again with the insensitive questions America) "Like the Mayans and Incas?"

"I never got to know them like I did with Aztec."

"But—but all the stories! You can't think of those Empires without thinking of you, Spain. You're the Conqueror of South America. Except for Brazil. He got away from you."

"You are thoughtless like England!"

France felt his presence being ignored or possibly forgotten as Spain and America got in a small argument. It was strange seeing Spain in a different mood besides happy. France thought over the years and realized he had never really seen his friend snap so quickly over a subject. But as France recalled, back then in the 16th century Spain never mentioned any of this to him personally. He always brushed it to the side or kept it vague. At the time, France must have not sensed it about being a difficult time for his friend. Spain gained so much wealth from overseas; France assumed he was just tired from traveling on the ocean for so long or just wanted to sleep on his bed at home. Scratch that last bit. Spain would have dealt with Romano during that time, and no one wanted to deal with that mess of a kid even if he was cute. Nowadays he was still a pain in the ass.

The Frenchman carelessly waved his cell phone light over anything even if it wasn't important for their scavenger hunt. However, this time France spotted something shiny, catching his eye almost immediately. He glanced back at Spain and America who still fought in harsh whispers. France pursed his lips and went down the dark corridor without his friends noticing his action. His legs led him to a rather familiar painting with a gold plague explaining it at the bottom. It was from when he and Mexico fought in the Pastry War. No wonder why it seemed familiar.

It was a stupid war really. A pastry chef claimed Mexican officers ruined his shop, yada yada. England even got involved at some point. But that didn't faze France in the slightest way. He got his money. Seeing as it was an opportunity to strike at England's ego, France made a quick turn as if he was going to say something to his friends. The awkward part was that they went off without him, leaving France in the darkness all alone.

"So they really 'aven't noticed I 'ave left zem yet?" France said out loud. "'ow rude…" With the thought of his two comrades forgetting his existence, France set out on a journey to find Span and America.

* * *

In another end of the museum, America and Spain failed to see eye to eye… still. Spain argued that America was an insensitive little brat who should mind his own business. America's defense was that he was a bit curious over the Spaniard's history. It wasn't like it was a huge secret. Everyone knew Spain defeated the past empires. The details weren't all there; that was all.

"I just asked you a simple question! You're the one blowing it out of proportion. Geeze." America scoffed to the side. Spain was the one being all mysterious and weird. Not his usual attitude but the girls would still throw themselves at him no matter what.

Spain stopped on a dime, facing America with harsh eyes. It was bizarre seeing Spain without a smile or ditzy face. America knew something was up if Spain was acting in such an odd way. The Spaniard huffed than spoke. "I met Aztec, befriended her, betrayed her, and later on killed her. Maya was dying already—on her last days on Earth when I met her. And Inca… I hardly knew her. She almost destroyed herself with civil wars. I betrayed her as well. It took awhile, but I managed to defeat her as well. Happy now that I gave you an answer?"

The air around them grew stuffy and uneasy. America felt sheepish for pushing the other over the edge. He didn't mean to open closed wounds. "Hey man," he started weakly, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to—" America stopped his apology, noting something off. "Where's France?" The two looked down the shady hallway. They couldn't see anything clearly after a few inches down. "That damn Frenchie coward! He ran off back to England and Mexico," said America through gritted teeth.

Spain didn't react the same way America did. A barely audible noise caught his attention instead. The Spaniard turned his head toward the dark hallway that awaited them to travel down. America still cursed at the absent France, but Spain put his hand over America's closed fist, grabbing the American's attention in the process.

America looked toward where Spain was staring at. They heard strange noises coming from the darkness. It sounded like drums beating, but the two countries couldn't figure out if the sound came from actual drums or the blood pulsing through their veins. America felt a knot form in his throat. He must have looked nervous, but he made his way down the murky corridor.

Once they made it to the end, they turned the corner, revealing a dim, orange glow originating from a candle light. America knew he was in the right place. The environment around him was familiar in a creepy way. He made it to the same room he was in earlier. Only there was a gloomier and colder feeling to it than before.

The boxes that crowded the room were now pushed to the farthest corners, leaving the center to whatever it was needed for. America saw his creation walking in the middle. The American kneeled and pressed his body against the wall showing only half of his face. Spain was behind America examining what the strange woman was doing. She walked in front of where the candle that brought her to life use to be then placed a large book to the left corner. America noted that the book looked ancient before he or Mexico ever walked the Earth. It was possible that it was created during the ancient times like when Ancient Rome roamed the land.

At the right corner, the woman placed the old mirror France made England look at earlier. They hadn't the slightest clue if that piece of junk actually meant something important to others. It could have been thrown away and they wouldn't have flinched.

The woman stepped back to the other side of the room. She then kneeled in her place lowered her head to the floor, beginning to mumble foreign words. America noticed the woman's outfit. It was one of the replica clothes on the mannequins in the other room. The head piece with bright green feathers was on one of the sealed crates. There were other stolen artifacts around her like a dagger made out of bone or something of the sort. The female sat up in a swift motion with her eyes closed. She was in a deep state of concentration from the looks of it. Then she put down long brown hair in front of her. It wasn't her own since it was a bit lighter. America put the pieces together. That was Mexico's hair from when the woman yanked out before running off with it. After he realized it, it kinda grossed America out.

Without opening her eyes, the woman searched for the dagger next to her leg. She raised the knife up to her face, finally opening her eyes to see what she was doing. In a quick motion that America and the others couldn't fathom at the moment, the woman cut off a chunk of her flesh from the soft part of her arm with the dagger. She set her piece of meat on top of Mexico's hair, continuing with her chant as though nothing had happened.

After that the witch began moving her arms and hands around. The open wound on her arm never shed blood. Seeing as she had been dead for so long, her body didn't have the bodily functions to produce the crimson liquid. It egged on the fear the countries hid from the others. This was some strange voodoo shit America got them in.

The smoke from the incense condensed around her and then some of it travelled to where the other objects were. It clouded them until they were unseen by the hidden countries. The words chanted grew louder as the clouds of smoke grew larger. The wind around America and Spain got stronger as well. Their hair went wild. It was hard focusing on what was happening. As the chant reached its climax, everything stopped. The clouds of smoke fell down to the floor, making the floor look like a swamp area. The floor was covered in the thick smoke. The woman and objects were unfound. Everything was still even the candle lights that flickered beforehand.

"Where did she—" A sudden motion from the mysterious smoke cut off America from saying anymore, scaring the other beyond understanding as well. Spain covered America's mouth with his hand. He was sure the brat would scream out some nonsense about 'being the hero' or do something stupid to give away their position.

America glanced back to where the movement came from. He saw something break the cloud of smoke. It was the same woman from before only she was hunched over with her hands covering her face. America didn't know if it was due to the smoke or what but her skin seemed to have more color to it rather than it being pasty white. It looked tanned as though she spent her whole life working in the sun. Her hair which was unruly and untamable before was now straight and polished.

The woman peeked through her fingers, eyeing what was in front of her. She lowered her hands, revealing her different and younger face to America as well as Spain. The horror in America rose. She resembled Mexico. A few differences- like her dark, soulless eyes for example- but other than that it was a doppelganger of his dear friend. Spain must have seen the resemblance as well since his hand that rested on America's shoulder for support dug deeper into his skin. America had to hold in a squeak from escaping his mouth. God, Spain was stronger than he looked.

Mexico's lookalike rose on her legs. Her weak legs gave out under her like when she first rose from the grave. Her next attempt was more successful. She stayed standing up, slowly turning to the green head piece behind her. It fit perfectly on her head as though it was made completely for her honor.

"Rise," she said turning back, "rise, oh great empires, rise once again from your long sleep."

Where the book and mirror were placed, the countries heard shuffling and movement on the stone floor. Two more bodies rose. Their dark hair broke the smoke screen, revealing more young women. One of them stretched her arms in the air as though she really did wake up from a cat nap. She let out a long yawn as she continued to wake up from her slumber.

It was probably an inappropriate time to think of such things but that one chick had it going on, thought America. Spain must have sensed America's thoughts since the damn Spaniard hit the back of his head, causing him to almost shout out in pain.

The young woman let out a loud moan as she finished stretching her body. She opened her eyes finally noticing the room she was in. Nothing registered as familiar. "This doesn't look like my bedroom. What place is this?" Her eyes locked on the female standing in the room. Her eyes and body relaxed. She became comfortable with the newly discovered presence, seeing as she twiddled with her dark brown hair that was in a long braid. "Oh dear sister, it's good to see you again!"

America's creation looked taken back. She glanced down at her 'new' body form and went along with what the other said. "It's been a long time, sister… Please stand up."

The other did as she was told. She was clumsier than the other one. Her small, thin legs wobbled and she fell to the ground on her knees. "It feels as though I haven't walked in ages," the one with the braid commented. The sounds of shuffling stopped the other from standing up.

The last one to show themselves was the one where the large book was. This woman had curly hair, resembling a thick mane from a lion. Though she was the last to show herself, she rose to her feet the quickest almost without any complication at all. She looked stronger than the other two. There was a sense of sturdiness and strength in her eyes where as the other one seemed a bit aloof.

"Sister Maya! You are here as well!" The one with the braid exclaimed, rushing to her feet to greet her sister in a strong embrace. The one called Maya was still adjusting to the environment to return the hug properly.

"Inca," Maya pulled her sister away from her body, "You've grown." The taller one with curly hair sounded flabbergasted as if she had never seen her sister before.

The other nodded in agreement before saying, "Much has changed since I first formed. Oh, it's so good to see you again! You look stronger from what I remember!" The energetic one hugged Maya once again then released her. Inca reached for her hand and walked toward the one who summoned them both. "Look at us! The three empires together once again! Maya, Inca, and Aztec!"

America and Spain's hearts sank so far that it felt as though a black hole was crushing it into oblivion. The three infamous, deadliest, and strongest empires in the Americas were alive and walking once again right in front of their faces. America felt the breath in him escape his body. He forgot how to function for a moment. He just unleashed mass amount of harm to the world. This was entirely his fault. An unbelievable total of stress came upon the American's shoulders. He hadn't the slightest clue of how to stop this train wreck. It wasn't much, but there was some relief to America, seeing as he had Spain on his side. He conquered them before so he should have a clue of doing it again. Right?

"Aztec?" The strong one seemed surprised. She looked at the proclaimed 'Aztec' and inspected her carefully. There was something off in her 'sister'; however the Mayan couldn't put her finger on it. Maya then spoke in a strong, articulate voice. "Where am I, Aztec? What dreadful place have you brought me to?" She examined her surroundings thoroughly and nothing enlightened her. This wasn't the last place she was before she went asleep.

"It's a replication of one of our temples, mimicking its former glory," the first one answered.

"Lies," Maya mumbled as she freed herself from Inca's grasp, "this place is mocking us. This is filth. Nothing from what I remember." The woman with curly hair placed her hand on one of the walls, feeling it. "This stone is cheap, not stable. It couldn't last for more than one life cycle. And these carvings are meaningless. They hold no story or truth for the people. What mockery is this?"

"It seems as though our language has diluted over these past few centuries."

"Centuries? Nonsense, I took a nap. It's only been a few hours—if anything."

"What is the last thing you remember, dear sister?" Aztec asked with a sly tone leaking out of her speech. She had a hidden agenda they didn't know of.

Maya seemed surprised by the question Aztec asked her. She had to take a moment to reflect before answering. "It was a hot day as I recall. I did not feel well so I had to lie down in my chambers. The others understood so they let me do so. I heard noises, but… I couldn't get up. I just drifted to sleep."

"And you Inca?"

"I don't remember much," Inca responded, "but I do recall my head and body hurting very much."

"Sisters." When Aztec said the word, it sounded more of a statement coming from an actress rather than a close family member. That didn't sit well with Maya, America and the others noticed. "When you both were asleep, I was able to discover some interesting facts about us, about our civilizations. This place is dedicated to our history. Mine mostly but still… I was able to find out interesting facts about you two as well." The other two stood in a state of anxiety and suspense before Aztec said another word. They didn't have a clue of what the past held for their people.

"Let me start with you, Maya," Aztec said as she took a few steps toward the said empire, "Your people were killed by the Spanish explorers. They were literally knocked off the face of the Earth. Everything they possessed was left undisturbed. The stragglers who travelled in different places were enslaved by the Spanish.

"As for you Inca," Aztec turned her attention to the other one who seemed frightened by what was about to be revealed to her, "That pain you felt came from a civil war encouraged by the Spanish conquistadors. Their leader befriended your king, and when he refused to accept Christianity, they held him hostage. Your people gave them a generous amount for ransom. They kept their word, but the Spanish did not. They killed him and took your gold and people as slaves."

The fear in Inca's dark brown eyes grew as she lifted her hands to cover her open mouth. Though she was horrified by what she heard, Inca had to ask Aztec one question. "What happened to you, Sister Aztec?" Maya lifted her eyes from the ground to see her sister's reaction to the question. Before, she was too focused on what Aztec informed her about on her people, but now it was Aztec's turn to share her horror story.

"I'm afraid mine is much, much worse," Aztec said, "It is too horrible to repeat. But know this, my downfall was the bloodiest of all of ours, Inca."

"Just tell us, _sister_," Maya hissed towards the end. She seemed to have a short temper.

"In the year 1519, strangers with light skin came to our land. They took whatever pleased them. Food, money, valuables, women, slaves, you name it and they had it. They made their slaves learn Spanish to communicate with the nearby villagers. They made alliances with them, saying they would save them from the dreadful Aztec Empire and their human sacrificing ceremonies. So they did. After months of waiting and creating allies, Montezuma, ruler of my precious Empire, allowed the Spanish into my home. Slowly, they changed my home with statues of people of their religion. We didn't want any of it. Cortes, the leader of the Spanish, threatened to kill Montezuma if we did not follow him. The funny thing was that we abandoned that low life of a ruler long ago. We fought for all we could. They hit us and we hit them. We had a new loyal ruler who wanted to save our home. However, they ruled the water and had those stags. They attacked us all day and night. Somehow their disease infected us, weakening our armies. 80 days and nights we managed to protect our home, but they broke our barrier. They looted, raped, and destroyed everything good. When they were done with us, they burned everything down to the ground." Towards the end of her speech, Aztec seemed choked up about what she said. It was the one time since she was created that she was human. "That is where we are now. On top of the ashes of my empire, my home."

What the woman said and what America read out loud before this whole catastrophe began were completely different. Hearing the account from someone who was there was so different and disturbing from just reading the words on paper. America's heart went out to her—them. It was understandable for them to feel those intense emotions. America didn't know who we wanted to side with for a brief moment. He was allied with their murder after all. Speaking of which, Spain was motionless. He was still in shock about the three empires being resurrected.

"Oh Aztec!" Inca ran to her sister and embraced her in a comforting hug, hoping to wash away any trace of sadness she felt at that moment. "Everything will be fine. I'm sure of it."

"No," Aztec said firmly, "everything I know is lost to the world. Everything we all know was destroyed centuries ago!"

"Why do you repeat 'centuries'? It cannot be possible for me to sleep that long!" Maya was outraged by what no one was sure. She just found out how her empire crumbled. Her home disappeared off the face of the planet. That was enough to make anyone crazy or mad.

"We died a long time ago, Maya, Inca! My empire was destroyed in 1521. The year is 2011. Everything you once knew is gone and forgotten from people's minds."

"YOU'RE LYING! If I was dead, I wouldn't be talking to you right now! Besides, I look better than I have in a long time. I'm well rested."

"I brought you here, Maya! You are feeling, breathing, talking because of me."

"Why? Why did you bring me here _again_? To tell me how my sister and I died?"

"No."

"Then why?" Maya was on the verge of screaming whereas Inca stood on the sidelines witnessing the conflict unfold before her.

"Justice!" Aztec exclaimed.

"You are speaking of revenge, you spiteful woman," Maya raised her voice with her arms crossed across her chest.

"No, you are misunderstanding me, Maya. I want justice. Justice for our people. Justice for our descendants. That is all I wish for. I crave nothing more than to see those who took away my home and family to suffer the same fate I did and more."

"More?" The word escaped Inca's lips.

"Yes, more. What if we were to work together and get back what was once ours? Land, riches, everything! As well as letting those who died for our protection in such cruel circumstances pass on with integrity. We can get it all back. All I ask is for your assistance."

"Why would we belittle ourselves to such an act?" Maya asked pulling Inca closer to her.

The scene developed rather quickly as America was glued to the women. It was so scary and interesting to see these three women interact with one another. Everyone including countries and humans wanted to see these three empires once more. It would be such a wonderful sight. It was as America concluded.

America soon realized Spain wasn't near him anymore. He turned his head to only see the Spaniard backing away from the scene. He looked horrified. America understood what Spain must be feeling at the moment. But no words of comfort came out of America's mouth. He didn't know what to say to him.

"Spain—?"

"I have to leave- I'm sorry—I can't be here anymore." And like that Spain went down the hall where the two entered in, leaving America to face the women alone.

America crouched back down as she whispered the word 'shit' over and over again. Yes, he was the hero but not the lone hero, shit. He wasn't Dirty Harry, for Christ's sake! He couldn't shoot up the damn place for one because Mexico would kick him and he didn't have a gun to do so, so yeah that plan had to be thrown out.

As America weighed the possible outcomes of him revealing himself to the empires like the badass he was, he looked up to the sound of a ceramic vase shattering on the floor. The only thing wrong with that was it came from another room. One of his friends just revealed their whereabouts in the museum.

"It seems as though we have a lurker nearby," Aztec said with an evil smirk. It wasn't normal to see so much wickedness in a woman's face. "I will go on ahead to make sure we are safe. Inca, can you keep me company? I think Maya needs sometime to compose herself before hunting down anyone."

Hunting? That word didn't sit well with America. The woman—Aztec—treated life like a game of revenge. She took the phrase 'survival of the fittest' to a whole other level.

"Now Maya, if you sense anyone near you, don't hesitate to attack them because they won't think twice when trying to bring you down again." Aztec's mischievous eyes locked on Maya as she made her way to the entryway across from where America hid. Maya stood there with her arms folded across her chest. She looked torn about the whole situation. She seemed to be out of the loop. She couldn't fathom the thought of dying and coming back to life. It wasn't natural. There was an obvious struggle within herself. America would have been completely stupid if he interrupted her thinking session.

* * *

France's paranoia took over his every action and thoughts. His hands shook like crazy. Plus, he couldn't walk or think straight, causing him to fumble and knock down a vase. The country knew he was in trouble after that so he scurried to find a safe spot away from anyone's view, fully aware of what would come after him. No way was he facing that crazy woman all alone in the dark. France failed to find a hiding place, however. He just ran around like a chicken with his head cut off.

France found himself hurrying after every step he took in the dark. He saw shadows moving at the corners of his eyes, making him question what was real and what wasn't. He heard noises of footsteps appearing and disappearing at his sides. Chills ran down his back at the thought of someone hunting him like some sort of animal.

The artifacts around him quickly became his enemies, plotting his demise. He felt them move when his eyes weren't on them. He could have sworn he saw the masks on the walls keep France in their sights. If that wasn't bad enough, the country heard small sounds in the distance like snickering. He couldn't separate what was reality and what his mind fabricated. The moonlight beamed through the windows, creating more eerie thoughts as it enhanced the movements of the night. France felt exposed like a weak, pitiful gazelle surrounded by a pack starving hyenas. He had no way of escaping his mind games. Everywhere he went only fueled the noises and thoughts. He had to find the others as quickly as possible. All the worrying tore at his thoughts and decision making. He could have sworn he could go mad. France wasn't the strongest or bravest man around, he'll admit that much, but nothing got in his way of thinking clearly.

Though all the thoughts in France's mind confused him from thinking clearly, the sound of two sets of footsteps stood out from all the chaos and confusion his mind made up. France's instincts kicked in, and he hid behind the tallest stand he could find closest to him. It wasn't the most ideal hiding place, but it will do. All France had to do was plan when to move to say out of his enemies' sights.

He heard two women conversing with one another.

"Excuse me, Sister Aztec, but I'm a little bit confused," the one who spoke sounded petite almost like a child.

Aztec, France repeated the word over in his mind until he remembered its significance. He discussed this topic with the others a while ago.

"-Besides everyone who was alive to conquer us back then has long been dead. What kind of people would we be if we killed those who did not exist back then?" The petite one added on to the conversation.

"You are wrong there, Inca. There is one person who hasn't died yet." The second person spoke up. She sounded more stern like an adult with authority.

"How can that be? No human can live for more than a century." Inca was baffled by the words Aztec spoke. It only made it easier for Aztec to lure Inca in.

"No human can, but for someone who is just like you, five centuries is nothing but a mere moment to a country."

"Someone like us?" Inca thought about the vast amount of people she learned to know over her existence. "Oh, are you talking about Spain?"

Hearing his friend's name brought a chill to France's heart, and the sensation circulated through his whole body. He could have sworn his body temperature dropped a few degrees.

"Yes, that man is still alive. I saw him with my own eyes. He is the same as he was back then. If we can get a hold of him, our revenge for our lost civilizations will be one step closer to being complete." It was obvious to France at least that the one named Aztec held back dire details on her upcoming plans.

"But what happens after we get Spain?"

"Afterwards…?" Aztec took a moment to think of an answer or excuse, whichever one she thought of first. "Inca, I must tell you something important. As of now, we are on borrowed time. We have one night on this Earth to live. Once dawn comes and the sun touches our skin, we will return back to our graves. I—I cannot share this piece of information with Maya yet. She seems broken already about dying. I can't imagine her reaction when I tell her she will die a second time."

"Die…? But… I don't want to die! Not yet. This time seems like a lot of fun to leave now!"

"Don't fret my sister. I came up with a plan. The reason I brought up Spain is because he is needed for our survival. We must kill him. Now before you say anything, listen to my reasoning. His death won't just be revenge. It will keep us alive. We have one night to accomplish what needs to be done or else we will be dust in the wind. If we kill that man—the reason why we died in the first place-, we will be able to see passed dawn. After we defeat _Reino de_ _España, _we take our lands back as though nothing in the past happened. We can justify what happened to us."

Inca looked sickened by the piece of information as was France. The two didn't know but both of their faces lost their color, resembling a white ghost. However, France turned a bit green. He cared deeply for his friend. Just imagining Spain going through pain and even causing such gruesome attacks to others on purpose made his body ache in both sadness and denial. Regardless, France knew his friend wasn't a heartless jackass. Knowing so, it took so much effort to not object or stand up for Spain. Alas, his fear kept him in check.

Aztec felt Inca's uneasiness about Spain's death so she comforted her sister with soothing words that hit home for Inca. "When I walked this place before waking you and Maya up, I saw more people like us. They were like that man Spain. They had light skin, different colored eyes. Some like the greenest of forests and others like the great waters surrounding us."

"There are more light skinned men?" Inca interjected with bright eyes. She seemed interested in the thought.

"Yes, the blonde one with blue eyes is the one who resurrected me who in return resurrected you. If it were not for him, we would not be here right now. But those ones aren't our main focus right now. We have to-" The woman stopped. "Do you hear that noise…?" A frightening silence came afterwards, almost making France's teeth chatter, but the Frenchman locked his jaw tightly. No way was he going to go down like this.

* * *

In another part of the museum, Spain found himself running in a frantic state to an empty, dim hallway. Once he stopped to take a quick look around to see if anyone saw his whereabouts. Thankfully, no one was around, leaving him to let go of all his pent up emotions. Spain let out a deep, tearless sob. He wanted to scream; he wanted to cry, but nothing came out. As his body refused to release tears, the deep part of Spain's throat burned as a knot formed from his silent screams. It felt like swallowing shards of glass every time he pushed back tears. The Spaniard only scrunched his face tightly, enough to give him a painful headache if he kept on doing the act, as well as grinding his teeth together.

Spain couldn't take the pressure from all his emotions. Every inch of his body shook. Slowly, he placed his forehead against the nearest wall, reliving the days of 1521. His legs failed to keep his body up, causing him to collapse to his knees as the faces of those he killed in Mesoamerica appeared before him. It was all too great. The loss of three magnificent civilizations was too much to bear. All the resurfacing emotions swarmed back to his mind at once.

Through the faint light provided by the moonlight outside, Spain looked at the palm of his hand once he calmed down a bit. He examined his hand. It looked different like it was the wrong hand. The odd thought continued to plague Spain. It was a stupid thing to obsess over especially at a difficult time like this. The thought soon changed. Spain considered that may be he was asleep. That everything that happened in Mexico's house up until now was a dream or in his case a nightmare.

"Is this real…? Am I really here?" He asked himself as he flipped back and forth between the back of his hand and palm. Spain didn't ask anyone in particular since he knew he was alone. He felt if he talked out loud—even if it was just him—Spain needed to know someone was listening.

He touched the cold, tiled floor with his hand still shaking like mad. Feeling the chilly floor couldn't convince him that he was in reality. He couldn't accept it. This fate he was forced into made him angry. He already saw the devastation before, and he didn't plan on going through it again. "No… this can't be happening. This isn't real! I have to wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!" Spain hit the side of his face repeatedly until either his cheek bled or it finally sunk in that he would never wake up. Luckily for his face, the second reason came first. "W-wake—wake up… please," he croaked out one more time, hoping his wish would come true. Spain leaned his back against the wall once again in defeat, fully aware of his presence of the real world.

Because of his awareness, Spain felt extremely sheepish for abandoning America in the room with Maya. Even if it was just a moment of fresh air, Spain still ditched America with one of the countries with the worst attitude ever. And it would be his fault if anything happened to America. Once again, Spain put an innocent person in danger. After such a haunting thought passed through his mind, Spain could have sworn he heard a faint noise—he couldn't quite make it out—drawing closer and closer to his location.

* * *

Now before all the interruptions and noises are revealed, the source must come first. Back to where America hid from Maya, the blonde American attempted to be as still as he possibly could for as long as his body could handle. That proved to be a tougher task than he had hoped for. His legs wobbled from the pressure and extent of time he knelt on them.

Fortunately, the resurrected empire hadn't noticed him yet. She still looked weary of her existence on Earth. He walked back and forth in the room where she awoke. Again, America just stayed in place, avoiding any confrontation with the obviously unstable Maya. Any other time he would have jumped into action, but he was a hero not some jerk who took cheap shots at women. No he was better than that, he thought.

But even the self proclaimed hero knew his limits. He couldn't take down the Mayan Empire even if he wanted too. She was like an equal in strength. All the stories of her society being advanced beyond imagination got America shaking in his boots. So America came up with a plan to go back for Spain while he still had the advantage of not being discovered yet. The Spanish country dealt with Maya before so he had to have known a few tricks here and there.

However, this time America was not so lucky. For at that moment, the American heard a familiar sound ring that sent a surge of electricity down his spine throughout the area he was in, the room where Maya stood, resounding through the nearby corridors and rooms. America shut his eyes as he then reached into his jean pocket to retrieve his ringing cell phone. America gulped as he answered the phone without looking at the caller id.

"Hello," he said in a muffled voice, hoping the racket before didn't stir Maya from her thoughts.

"America! Thank God you answered." Oh God, it was only England. It relieved America to hear his former caretaker's voice. The American's breathing eased a bit, but his heart continued to race. England never called America unless it was an absolute emergency. The Englishman continued, "Listen to me, you have to get Spain and yourself out of there immediately! You two are in danger if that woman sees Spain the way he is."

"Why…?"

"He is dressed the way he was in 1521. If that crazy woman sees him again, there is no telling what might happen, especially in an environment where she has the advantage."

Right after England finished his statement, America heard bare feet behind him. Slowly and regrettably, America turned his head, revealing the sight he wished wasn't in front of him. A few steps in front of him was Maya, staring back at him with crazy, dangerous eyes. She looked like a starving bear in the wilderness, about to attack a defenseless human being. He interrupted her thoughts; therefore he must pay the price.

"Run…" Though his voice was low and quick, there was a sense of urgency that even England could hear on the other side of the receiver.

"Come again…?" England responded.

"Run! Run! RUN! We've been discovered! Now just run!" All was left was the dreaded dial tone and a wide-eyed England. The other country looked at Mexico, who covered her agape mouth with her tanned hands. She heard the entire conversation loud and clear. He closed his phone and grabbed Mexico's wrist. England felt bad for yanking her body like that, but it had to be done. Their instincts for survival kicked in. They knew no one would show them mercy at a crazy time like this.

* * *

**Sorry this part took so long. I was very busy with school and whatnot. After I got out of school, I faced a major writer's block, but I managed to get out a good lengthy chapter, no? Seriously, it's over 11,000 words. _ Funny thing is I was planning on making it longer. Well, I was gonna leave it off at a later part.** **Well I hope you enjoy this bit of my story. I was just glad I was able to show you all Maya and Inca's personalities. Questions? Comments? Please tell me them! :D**


	5. Black Sheep

_**"**Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when  
Our common goal was waiting for the world to end  
Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend  
You crack the whip, shape shift and trick the past again"_

Metric_, _"Black Sheep"_  
_

* * *

It was an undeniable fact that the countries- separated by halls and rooms- ran for their lives. America's ringtone set off a colossal chain of events, starting with the source, him. First, America ran as fast as his legs could take him. He managed to escape Maya's grip by a few milliseconds. The tips of her nails grazed the back of his neck, making the hairs on his skin stand. Once the resurrected country knew America was out of reach, Maya let out a grisly scream that sounded like a howl, echoing through the other empty corridors.

The American followed the pathway where he and Spain came from. Because of the surge of adrenaline rushing through his body, America forgot his escape route. He hit an unrecognizable crossroad, stopping him dead in his tracks. He cursed at himself for not remembering the way of his escape route. America moved his head from side to side, debating on which hall to take in order to exit the museum's labyrinth. He had to make up his mind and fast for he could hear Maya's footsteps coming closer to his location. Her footsteps were as loud as thunder during a raging storm as they her bare heels slapped against the hard floor. The deafening, incoming noise distracted America from making a decision. It clouded any decision-making from finishing, putting America in an entirely dangerous position even more so. And like a beacon of hope, America heard a familiar someone calling him from one of the dark halls.

Spain revealed himself from one of the hallways. He looked panicked; then again he could be reacting to America's uneasiness. America probably looked like a deer in headlights for all he knew. As scared as the two were, having a comrade in the midst of danger eased them of their fears, just a bit. Their little reunion came to a halt when Maya ran into the wall further down the hallway, trampling over the ancient artifacts of Mexican culture thus causing a loud scene in her midst. She had trouble keeping her balance on her newly created legs. They must have felt wobbly from not using them for hundreds of years, but even so that did not stop Maya from attempting to capture the two countries.

"Shit," America exclaimed, pushing Spain's back down the corridor where the Spaniard first showed himself. "We have to get out of here, Spain! Hurry up!" Spain was in shellshock from seeing Maya alive from such a close angle. For a brief moment when she was propping herself up off the ground, their eyes met. Her dark ones full of anguish and anger met his that were doused in guilt and regret of his past. The extreme emotion that shrouded Maya proved to Spain that everything that happened this evening was real and wasn't a nightmare he would so easily wake up from.

His responses were slow as were his movements. America wasn't going down like this not because one of his comrades was acting stupid.

"Come on!" America yanked Spain's arm right before Maya lunged at it. Once again, Maya's deadly claws just grazed the arm of her target. Luckily for them, Maya slammed into the other wall due to her wobbly legs, buying the two more time to run away from her.

Meanwhile, England and Mexico waited for their friends to meet them in the lobby area in an uneasy state after America ended his frantic phone call. The abrupt end left England anxious, making him walk back and forth in front of the reception area to relieve some of his built up stress. England bit the nail of his thumb in a nervous habit. He couldn't stand still even if he tried. All of England's thoughts were filled with the most terrible scenarios his friends could possibly endure, causing his face to grow hot with panic. If anything happened to any of the three, including his worst enemies France and Spain, England would never forgive himself because they were put in danger on his watch. England was guilty for wishing harm on his opponents in the past and even in the more recent days, but he never yearned for cruel unjust acts such as torture upon them.

As England went down his list of friends to protect, Mexico suddenly popped into his mind. And at that same train of thought, England heard a ruffling noise come from behind the front desk. He walked over to the area to inspect who or what caused the noise. He had just about leaned over the museum's pamphlets when a head of thick brown hair arose, standing tall on the other side of the desk. It was Mexico who created the disturbance.

It may have been a slow reveal, but it gave England a small scare nonetheless. The darkness made anyone on edge and fogged their judgment easily.

"Good God, Mexico," he said, feeling his heart race under his hand, "you frightened me. What on Earth are you doing behind the counter?"

"Looking for anything that can be used as a weapon," she answered. "We should all be armed or at least having something in our possession to delay the enemy."

"Did you find anything," England asked as he leaned further over the desk.

"Just the fire extinguisher. You want it?"

"No, I'll be fine. You worry about yourself first." England was always more than willing to show off his gentleman side.

"May I remind you that I brought my baseball bat?" The grin on Mexico's face lightened the atmosphere from heavy and stuffy to a more normal and relaxed feeling. But that lasted for only a moment.

The unsure sensation the darkness left caused both countries' eyes to wonder and become on edge. Both England and Mexico wanted nothing more than for America, France, and Spain to come back unharmed, hoping to confirm their worst thoughts false. Nothing. Only the howling wind from the outside filled the air. This made the both of them fidget and squirm where they stood.

"I'm worried about them," the Mexican woman finally admitted after all this time, leaving the fire extinguisher on the counter as she came around to where England stood.

"As am I."

Something in the dark moved or was moving. There was a noise that sounded like glass shattering. The crash gained the two countries' attention instantly. They looked at the open door from across the room, passed the statue of two people—a man and a woman—standing and looking at the entrance of the museum. The blood in both England and Mexico's bodies went cold. The quick sound of the glass breaking was followed by a clamor of bodies hitting walls and screams that resounded in the empty halls.

The Englishman's body tensed as he realized the holler came closer to them. His empty hands turned into fists. He wished he had taken Mexico's offer when she handed him it, but his pride as a man got the better of him. Plus, he was too stunned to even twitch or move his eyes away from the doorway. England just stood there exposed to the enemy's attack.

They heard stomping and tapping of shoes hitting the ground repeatedly. An optimist might have suggested that the other countries were alive. A realist like England thought of something much differently. They were alive, yes, but being chased by something not so friendly.

Louder and louder the noises became. They knew someone was alive and moving but the fast pace kept them on the two on their toes. The tension built up, and the English and Mexican held in their breath with each passing sound. And before anyone knew it, two parties collided once again. America toppled in the dark room as he revealed himself to the others, which brought relief to England and Mexico since they both exhaled at the same time. Spain came in seconds later. He almost tripped over America but kept his balance.

There were more sighs of relief. However, the panicked faces of the other two countries informed England and Mexico that nothing went according to plan.

"What's going on you two? You gave me a bloody heart attack after you hung up on me, America."

America stopped in front of England, leaning forward as he tried ever so hard to catch his breath before beginning to answer England's question. Spain on the other hand completely ignored England and ran right to Mexico, giving her a huge bear hug to which she physically disliked very much, but underneath it all she was just head over heels happy her friends were safe.

"Oh mija, I was so worried about you," Spain cooed in such great relief as he ran his fingers over her hair, kissing her forehead, but Spain knew they weren't secure for the time being, "We have to get you out of here and fast."

It was strange how Spain could change from doting parent to serious mode in half a millisecond. It never ceased to amaze America.

Mexico was no fool and knew something was amiss. Whenever Spain was serious, it meant no good outcome for anyone. She grew up in his shadow for many years as his colony and understood his mannerisms very well. If nothing happened in the other room, Spain would have acted like his usual airheaded self, not this forceful man jerking her towards the exit of the museum. Something was wrong; Mexico felt it in the air more so than before.

"America, I demand you to tell me about what is happening and now," England snapped America back to their conversation with his serious tone of voice.

"That woman we saw before—she brought two others with her," answered America, out of breath.

"What…?"

"I saw it with my own eyes, so did Spain. She—"

"Wait just a second, where is France? Isn't—shouldn't he be with you two?" England interrupted America not focusing on the story he was being told.

"We lost him," America glanced away from England's eyes as he said the words as if he lost a comrade in the midst of battle. The American placed his hands on England's shoulders stopping the other from looking around, "but you aren't listening to the important part! She changed her appearance. She's young looking now."

"H-how," England looked and sounded flabbergasted, "what does she look like?"

"Spain, let go of me this instant," Mexico yelled from the other side of the room as she yanked her arm away from Spain's hold, "I'm not leaving until I know everything is okay!"

"Like her." America nudged toward Mexico, hinting at where England should look.

England wasn't sure what to make heads and tails of what America was talking about. He hadn't the slightest clue if he should look at the paintings on the walls or mannequins. But one other person was there, Mexico. She released her arm from Spain's grip and folded her arms across her chest. She looked bothered as Spain spoke to her about leaving the museum immediately. The Englishman put the puzzle together even if it pained him to do so. "…Mexico?"

"There's a good reason for that, actually."

"Enlighten me. Exactly how does a dead woman suddenly alter her appearance to look like one of our friends?"

Before America could explain Mexico's hair playing an important role in the woman's transformation, the four countries heard stumbling come from a dark doorway. They waited in anxiety, hoping to see France rather than a stranger. To their luck for now, it was their French companion, tripping over his every other step until he reached a statue to lean on.

France hadn't the slightest clue he had an audience as he barged in the dimly moonlit room. It took a second for him to remember he had people on his side in this godforsaken place. The Frenchman staggered toward his friends like a drunken person with a sigh of relief.

"Oh zank 'eaven, you all are 'ere! Zere is a woman chasing me. We 'ave to leave now!"

"You yank! Stop making an idiot of yourself and stand up like a man. Make yourself presentable first before spouting out orders!"

"Is that seriously your main concern right now," America interjected in a possible argument between his former caretakers. "We have a serious problem going on at the moment so this can wait." France and England settled their upcoming feud for the meantime, but that was not what truly stopped them from continuing on with their bickering. A howl echoed from another room. It sounded like a rabid animal hungry for human flesh. The reunited countries stood still in absolute fear, having no idea of what power the darkness shielded them from at the moment.

America paced around the room, looking like a complete mad man. He ran his hands through his blonde hair. Then he stopped and faced his friends. "We need to hold them off."

"Who in God's name are you talking about?" England was sick and tired of the information America withheld from him. He placed them in even worse danger if those secrets could be of use to them in the future.

Just like England was angry at America for not sharing anything with the rest of the group, America was just as bothered with England poking his nose where he shouldn't. The American stormed right up to his former caretaker and grabbed a fist of England's shirt, pulling them close together so no one would hear the conversation. "Remember when I was a kid and you told me stories about how horrible Spain was to make me hate him, those stories about him killing great civilizations of the Americas?"

England hated to admit it, but America was right about that part of his childhood. Of all things he could recall, America remembered how England poisoned his young mind to hating his enemies like Spain and France. Regrettably, England replied with a muffled "yes" under his breath.

"They are alive and running around in this building as we speak," America hissed more than whispered in England's ear, causing the two to gain Mexico, France, and Spain's attention. Mexico was concerned, obviously, but showed it more than she intended. As for Spain, he must have assumed America was going to inform England from the start, thus letting the two have a minute together.

Just seeing Mexico's worried face enraged America even more so. He was furious with himself for endangering his friends and quite possibly the world because he was too stubborn to listen to anyone, especially England. He hated his pride at the moment. In the past it benefitted him almost always. It helped him gain his independence in the past when he desired nothing more than to stand on his own legs.

"You're joking," remarked England. He sounded amused as if America had told him a joke, but there was doubt and hesitation as he said it. He hoped more than anything that America was pulling off an elaborate scheme to scare him.

"I wish I was. I really do, but I'm not. So now can you help me think of a way to stop them?"

"Are you mental?" England knew very well America loved his hero complex, but this entire situation was too risky for any of them to handle alone without any back up. "If what you just said is true, we are in terrible danger. We could die fighting these people!"

"Don't you think I know that? I know it's dangerous, but think about it, if those women get out in the world, there is no telling what they could do to the rest of us or our homes. We have to stop them even if it's just the five of us."

"You're concerned," interjected Mexico. "You are genuinely concerned."

"Of course I am. Why would I be?"

"Nothing. It's just I'm surprised you haven't said a joke to bring down women yet."

"The night is still young."

They all heard a screeching scream coming from the shadows where America and Spain entered in. The group of countries huddled together, forgetting their past wars and problems with each other. Right then and there, they were all in the same position about to be attacked. They stood together united even if it was just that one time.

"You got your bat, Mexico?"

"Always."

The attack happened so fast, so fast in fact, that the countries' mind could not register it quickly enough. It happened in still shots. Maya and Inca bombarded them in a surprise attack, using the shadows to their advantage like creatures of the night. Keeping up with the women was nearly impossible like a regular person trying to outrun a bullet train.

Before any of them realized it, Inca hooked up England and France in this thick piece of rope she found in one of the exhibit halls she wondered in before. They fell on the floor, creating a loud thud as they hit the ground. The two countries were back to back, too close for comfort if they had anything to say about it. None of them liked the seating arrangement. They had no time to complain, though. England had a clear view of the attacks whereas France couldn't see a thing with turning his head to the side.

The woman with the long braid continued to the assault on the rest of the group. This time her target was America. She jumped on the American, hoping to knock him down. It didn't go according to plan, seeing as America kept his balance as well as tearing the woman's grip off of him. She fell on her butt, shocked by the young man's hidden strength.

"Sister," She yelled out, "help me!"

And before America knew it, a heavy weight from behind forced him to the ground face down. He managed to move his head to see his capturer. It proved difficult, seeing as her hand held the back of his head in a firm grip. With one eye, he saw the sister called Maya on top of him with a knee digging into his back. He felt her weight crush him. It was nearly impossible to escape her. America never had a problem with someone of equal power, not until now.

After witnessing her sister take down America, the one known as Inca turned her attention to Spain, one of the last who was free from their tricks. All the while avoiding the two women, Spain pushed Mexico behind his back. It was his only way of protecting her. She didn't need it though not when she was armed with that baseball bat. It was just his 'father' instincts kicking in. Inca smirked before she went in for the attack. She seemed pleased with what her brown eyes were looking at.

"Hello Spain," she greeted with a bit of cockiness, "it's been a while." Spain didn't respond. He didn't want to for that would prove to him that she was real, and he didn't want that to be the case. "You don't remember me? What a shame. And here I got excited to see you once again."

"Run for the exit," Spain commanded Mexico to do so under his breath.

Mexico heard him but didn't run for the exit immediately like Spain had hoped. She knew Spain would do something stupid like America and act like a hero to save everyone else. She wasn't having that. Before running out, Mexico grabbed onto Spain's hand dragging him to the exit. The Spaniard was quick on his feet; therefore, he didn't fall flat on his face during their escape. However, the woman was faster. Much faster.

Right before putting his foot in front of the other, Inca swung a rope with two rocks on the ends of it. It tangled and wrapped around Spain's legs and feet. That was when he fell to the floor, almost bringing his former colony down with him.

"Spain," Mexico exclaimed. She hadn't the slightest clue what happened behind her; then she saw the rope and put the two the clues together. Mexico's eyes traveled from where Spain collapsed to his capture. Her head was down, facing Spain still. She looked through her bangs to see the creepy woman giving her the same smirk she showed Spain earlier.

Mexico rubbed her thumb over her faithful baseball bat. That was her only weapon of defense to save not just herself but her friends as well. She took in one deep breath before doing anything rash. It was all or nothing at this point.

Mexico charged at the woman in a position where she was about to smack the woman to oblivion. But as hard as she pushed forward, the bat never hit the desired target. Mexico unscrunched her eyes only to reveal the woman she intended to hit held the top of the bat with her bare hand. Their one shot at salvation failed.

The sight alone made Mexico lose all feeling in her body, causing her to lose all the air in her lungs. The woman was strong, America noticed once Mexico winced when Inca latched to her wrist. But knowing how Mexico was, America knew his friend wasn't going down without a fight first. Mexico yanked her arm away but the woman stood, unfazed by Mexico's actions.

"Oh, you're a feisty one," Inca sounded intrigued, "let me look at your face, girl." Mexico refused Inca's command. She continued to pull her arm away from the woman's grasp. But the resurrected one would not have any more of this nonsense. Inca's free hand grabbed Mexico's jaw. As Mexico resisted, Inca's long nails dug deeper into her skin, never really piercing the top layer of skin. Once Mexico faced the other woman, Inca looked as if she herself saw a ghost.

"A-a," Inca struggled to form the word as she released Mexico from her hold, taking a few steps away, "Aztec-? But—no, it can't be. You're over in the other room. You told me so."

"What? No—no, I'm Mexico. Aztec was my mom. Did you know her?" Mexico knew the question was farfetched, but the look in the woman's eyes said otherwise.

"She should," said Spain, who finally untangled his legs out of the rope. He stood up to take his stance once again in front of Mexico. "She is your mother's sister after all."

"Excuse me?"

"Mexico, I would like you to meet your Aunt Inca."

"Inca…? Inca? You mean the Inca Empire? Peru's mom?"

"Peru? You know Peru?"

A single pair of clapping hands interrupted the developing conversation. All the countries alive and resurrected looked up to reveal Aztec, who wore a wicked smirk on her face, as the perpetrator. The only other sound that kept the room from being engulfed by complete silence came from America who grunted as he struggled to get Maya off his back.

"Well isn't this a touching family reunion." There was a noticeable hint of amusement in the woman's speech pattern as she took a couple of steps toward the nations. Oh how it pissed off America to no end. He desired nothing more than to wipe that grin off her face. "Hello everyone, I hope I'm not intruding on anything important."

"Who the hell are you?" The questioned burned at Spain's every thought since he saw her rise to life in the other room. His feelings of self-pity and regret were discarded as if they never existed in the first place; Spain returned with his mind cleared of all previous emotions, and now only anger pulsed through his veins for the woman who stood in front of him. He couldn't keep his feelings bottled up anymore.

"Has it really been that long?" The woman said out loud. She didn't care about Spain or his reaction to her. She quite enjoyed it from the looks of it. "Do you not remember the people you obliterated off this land?"

The four countries looked at Spain's confused face. He hadn't the slightest clue what this thing was talking about. "What are you talking about? I would have remembered such a foul person. Who are you?" Spain's voice changed from before. He was firm and harsh not like he was with Mexico in which he acted like a child.

"Aggressive already," the woman America identified as Aztec said bothered yet the unfading grin stayed on her face, "that's very rude, but what is even worse is you forgetting who I am. Oh well, it should have been expected from a barbaric man such as yourself. Murderers don't usually remember all the faces of the slain."

"Answer my question, puta de madre," Spain spat out as he continued to explode on the spot. His words dripped with hate like poisonous venom. No one had seen Spain show this level of hostility before, not even England, who had his fair share of quarrels with the Spaniard in the past.

The woman enjoyed Spain's reaction as she continued to toy with the Spaniard. It was as if his reaction went according to plan. It was apparent she was going to milk the situation until the very end, seeing as she had no intention in ruining the surprise yet. "If you insist on acting like you don't know me, I'll give you a hint. And if anyone is able to answer my riddle, you are welcome to help Spain out. It has been a few hundred years since we last encountered one another- 490 years, if you want to be accurate."

Mexico leaned closer to Spain as if to ask him a question over his shoulder. The mad woman's dark eyes landed on her after she finished her speech. Mexico instantly felt uncomfortable. She felt like a pawn in a game as if the woman had big plans for her in the future. "Spain, do you actually know this wack job?"

"Not sure yet." Spain never looked away from the mysterious woman. "I'm still figuring that out for myself."

Aztec's scary look changed from cunning to disappointed but not by much. "Don't tell me you forgot me too, Mexico. It seems this idiot's stupidity rubbed off on you."

That was the final straw. Everyone knew insulting Mexico would get one trip to Hell and back. No way was she going to get shit talked by some stranger. Mexico shoved Spain to the side, finally facing the woman directly and not from behind Spain. She was done playing this woman's games. "Just who do you think you are? You break into this museum, hurt an innocent security guard, attack my friends, and insult me. Identify yourself now, you retched woman!"

The resurrected one only huffed before saying, "it's a pity, really. I honestly thought a smart girl like you would remember her own mother."

Everything for a moment stopped for Mexico. America saw the pain she repressed over the years return to her eyes as they widened after hearing one word. Everything she built up inside her body was unleashed by one single word 'mother'. That scared little girl during the colonization period came alive once again. America could only imagine how much her heart ached and twisted against her ribcage. Her hands shook with the rhythm of her racing heartbeat. Also, her legs trembled as if they turned to jelly. None of her limbs cooperated with her. They just hung lifeless at her sides, shaking. She leaned on Spain for support just for a quick moment. Then, when she regained her composure—most of it anyway—Mexico stood up like the others usually saw during World Conferences.

"N-no," Mexico's voice cracked saying a simple word, "you're wrong. My mother, the Aztec Empire, is dead. Don't you dare insult her in front of me!"

"But in all honesty, the only person who has insulted my memory is you," said Aztec, leaving Mexico in absolute distraught. A small gasp filled with complete horror escaped Mexico's lips covered with her own hands. Mexico felt awful about the thought of dishonoring her mother's memory. All these years, she tried so hard to remember what little memories she had close to her heart. The woman continued to stare down at Mexico as though she were in power, which pissed America off. The woman mocked Mexico and made her feel guilty for no good reason, causing the American to struggle for release under Maya's heavy form.

"But I don't blame you, not entirely anyway. This man over here is the sole reason I was never able to be the mother you so rightfully deserved. To think such a handsome face could hold such terror behind it. He ruined so many lives in such cruel ways. It wasn't just us, my dear. Your Aunt Maya here and your cousin Guatemala could not escape the pain either, neither could your Aunt Inca or her Peru. Tsk… the lives that could have been… they sting rather deep in your conscious, don't they Spain? All those innocent lives sacrificed just so you can gain more riches. That's just a shame.

"But the past cannot be changed. No matter how much we wish to mend it… but onto more current matters, Mexico, my daughter, let me finally hold you after all this time." The Aztec woman lifted her arms out to Mexico as if they were to embrace. However, Mexico never moved closer to the woman proclaiming to be her mother. She just stood there in shock, confused by the conflicting feelings that swarmed her mind.

Mexico's chest heaved up and down as she took in deep breaths. Spain sensed her uneasiness and raised his arm in front of her. America noted how much Spain looked like the protective, authority figure he claimed to be in the past. It was as if the golden years of the Spanish Empire resurfaced in a few seconds. Spain touched Mexico's arm very lightly, hoping to give her some relief of her pain. Only, he just felt her shake under his touch. She was still so young and vulnerable compared to him.

"Mexico," he said not making eye contact with his former colony, "I know you have a lot of doubt in me, but trust me when I say this, that woman is not your mother."

Mexico jerked up, seeing Spain's stern face from the side. She wasn't sure what to feel at the moment. "Why do you sound so sure about that?"

"A good mother doesn't hurt her child, not intentionally anyway."

"How dare you interfere with us again. Have you no shame?" Aztec shot a condescending look at Spain, hearing and focusing her attention on Spain's speech only.

"Have you? Using a daughter's feelings about her mother against her? Now that is a new level of evil I have never witnessed before."

"Ah, the murderer calls me the evil one?" The woman went off on some tangent she had built up over the years she laid in the ground. She was determined to let Spain know how she really felt about him, but guilt would crush Spain's being before Aztec lashed out at him.

Hearing Aztec speak sickened America to the core. He couldn't take another minute of her bullshit. He struggled to shift his body in order to free himself from Maya's weight, but that proved to be unhelpful. Maya sat on his body like a rock. Nothing could move her. America rested his cheek on the cold marble floor—almost as a sign of defeat, but it was far from it. For America began to rethink his strategies on how to escape Maya. The American closed his eyes tightly, feeling utterly useless right then and there. He couldn't help anyone.

Alas, he heard footsteps stepping on the floor. They were different from before as if they were unsure of where to go or take action. America had understood that body language years ago yet the name hadn't hit him just yet. America opened his eyes, seeing all his friends and enemies the same way before he closed his eyelids. He turned his head to where the footsteps originated from. There near the entrance America noticed Mexico's baseball bat. It rolled over in front of where they entered before when Inca took it from Mexico's possession. A moment later America's eyes landed on a pair of unidentified pair of shoes.

Those were the ones the American heard moments before. He looked up slowly, gazing at the jeans, the shirt and then the face he had grew up with during his childhood days. It was Canada, who arrived, yet America wasn't sure if he should be happy or afraid for his brother. Everyone's life was in great peril for they hadn't the slightest clue of what the three sisters were capable of.

It gave relief to America knowing that no one not even their friends had acknowledged Canada's presence. Any slight change of moment or reactions could set off a whole chain of uncontrollable and deadly events. At that moment, America rested the side of his face against the for once more, being grateful for the others ignoring his brother this one time. America loved his brother, he truly did, but people forgetting he existed sure came in handy at times.

However, the stern look in Canada's eyes made America uneasy. Canada never looked away from the target enemy Aztec, who continued to speak lowly at Spain and his past endeavors. The Canadian's hand slowly reached for the metal bat in front of him. Once he held the object in his possession, Canada gripped it as if he were out to bat on the baseball field.

A cold chill of fear surged through America's unmoving body. Canada was about to place himself in a dangerous position, and America promised himself that no one else was going to be put in danger because of his actions. But with Maya sitting on him and watching even his smallest movements, America couldn't even mouth words to his brother to run away. He could only gaze up at him, pleading to not do anything drastic at the moment, until his brother looked down and noticed him.

Luckily for America, Canada did notice his brother and his predicament, stopping him cold. They didn't communicate verbally, but after years of growing up side by side, the two brothers were able to understand one another through small movements insignificant to those who didn't understand them.

America's heart jumped as Maya placed her hand on his exposed cheek, reminding him of the others in the room with him as well. He thought she saw Canada and was about to attack him; however, she continued to sit on him with her head facing her sister Aztec. The conversation drifted away from Spain. It now involved all their lives.

"We must figure out what to do with these extra countries," said Aztec.

"How do you suggest we dispose of them," Maya soon asked, stroking America's cheek with her thumb.

"Quickly, if you don't mind. These two first. I have no use of them," Aztec said in such a calm tone as though it were a part of a daily conversation. She pointed to England and France, finally bringing them into the mix. The North American brothers saw the dismay in their former caretakers' eyes, especially in England's. He was in such a state of disbelief. Never before in his history of being an empire had he been seen as useless before.

The two resumed their silent conversation. Time was running out for everyone. America stared hard at the baseball bat in Canada's hands, and in return, his Canadian brother took note. After, America looked to the corner of his eye as if looking to the ceiling only Canada knew he was signaling towards Maya. He understood America wanted him to attack Maya first in order to free him so America could assist in helping the other imprisoned ones. Only America couldn't signal when he wanted his brother to do such actions.

Canada began to lift the baseball bat in a swinging position. That action caused America to panic. It wasn't the appropriate time to attack yet. There was no other way than to mouth the word 'no' over and over until Canada took notice. Once again- thanks to luck, Canada stopped and became aware of America's actions. This time around America only mouthed 'not yet,' leaving the Canadian ready and armed for his brother's command.

"Oh Sister Aztec," Inca, who showed no sign of involvement in the conversation beforehand, spoke up. "I know this may not be in your plans, but can I keep a man for myself? It'd be such a waste to get rid of so much potential fun so quickly. Plus…" Inca walked over to where the two captured European countries were and grabbed England's chin, turning his head so he could face her. "This one looks like a fun one to break."

"Excuse moi?" That snapped France back to the unfolding conversation. "You choose this guy, 'ere, before me—even over Spain, and America? Surely, I can show you a better time than 'e can!"

England tried his best to shut France up by jabbing him in the side of his stomach. "Shut up," England whispered in a harsh whisper, "you'll just make things worse for us."

"Sorry but I cannot imagine anyone ever choosing you and your monster eyebrows over me."

"Piss off! Our lives are in jeopardy, and all you can think about is beating me? Grow up, France!"

"It's just one of zee many perks of our friendship—"

"Oh shut up, you two," Maya was the first to speak up. She had enough of their bickering the moment they opened their mouths. She wanted to end things quickly. "You two squabble like an old married couple. It's so annoying."

"We won't ever make that mistake again," said England with France nodding in agreement, "trust me, it was not a pretty time for anyone."

"Now everyone just calm down," Aztec spoke as she had a growing headache. She had no interest in the countries other than Spain and Mexico. "Inca, if you insist on keeping one of these countries, I suggest you use this," she said as she threw an object to Inca, who instinctively caught it without any trouble.

"Thank you, sister! How did you know I would need this?" Inca spoke with a cheery voice and a never fading broad smile that only enhanced the twinkle in her brown eyes. She was without a doubt the fairest and most delicate looking of the three resurrected ones; though, the detail of her being a delicate young woman was absolutely false. Inca made grown men who have seen some of the darkest and deadliest wars with their own eyes crumble at her feet. She was a force to be reckoned with, but that joyful face disguised her true power and might.

Her long braided ponytail was browner than the rest rather than the others who had more of a raven shaded hair color. She looked the most European out of the sisters, almost Italian. Now that America thought about it, all or most of her mannerisms resembled that of an Italian. Her movements were strong and determined to get what she wanted. For one, she was definitely more touchy feely like an Italian. Just look at the way she approached England. She resembled a lioness hunting down a wounded zebra that was abandoned by its herd for Christ's sake.

"Since I chose you, let me get to know you before we have some real fun," Inca said, fixing her mirror in front of England. If it had been another woman in a completely different situation, England—and the other male countries for that matter—would have jumped on the opportunity to be with a woman like Inca. Unfortunately for them, Inca wanted to do harm and not in the fun way like she insisted.

"No-! No thank you! I'd rather not. I mean you are an extremely attract-fit woman—I won't deny that—er but I don't think we will be that compatible with one another," England stammered in front of Inca; whether that was because of a beautiful woman showing interest in him or because that same woman was getting a bit handsie with England, the countries did not get the precise answer they were looking for.

"Oh don't be modest. I have no preference in men. I will be everything you want, only if you open up your deepest darkest desires to me. What do you say?" Inca lowered the mirror in front of her chest because it seemed that England wasn't paying attention to it. In order for Inca to get what she desired, she began to play—if that was the correct word for it—or tease England by sliding her hand up his leg, inching closer upwards.

"—stop, please! Your hand is getting really close to my—okay, now it's touching my crotch."

America and Canada locked eyes once again, trying to ignore England's frazzled state and awkward movements as if he had never been intimate with a woman before. America nodded ever so slightly so Maya wouldn't detect anything America planned. As on cue, Canada paced himself as he took a few slow steps closer behind Maya, who still failed at acknowledging the Canadian's existence. It was a rare sight to see Canada show such fierceness in his usually kind eyes. Even as Canada lifted his arms to attack the former empire, it seemed so out of character for America to witness. But the American guessed they shared more similar traits than they were aware of, for Canada was just as strong as his kin when he wanted to be.

He held nothing back as he took a swing at Maya. Oh how the great Mayan Empire fell in one hard hit from Canada. Maya let out a shrieking scream resembling that of what America could imagine as the banshees found in various fiction stories he had read in the past. Another memory resurfaced from America's subconscious. It was when he and a few of his friend encountered a wild cat during their camping trip a few years prior. The bobcat got its leg caught in a trap another group of hunters left behind. The poor animal just moaned in pain, awaiting its slow, agonizing death to come to an end.

That was what went through America's mind as Maya's body fell next to him, releasing him from her crushing weight. An animal, he thought as he got off his knees. Animals don't have a sense of what was right and wrong. They went by instincts alone. With that thought crossing his mind and pushing him forward over and over again, America charged after the leader of the pack—Aztec.

Canada continued his duty to save his allies by rushing to England and France's aid, surprising Spain and Mexico in the process. The indigenous nation Inca stood her ground but didn't anticipate the true strength of the Canadian to arrive so quickly. She was unprepared to attack like she had previously. She covered her face with her arms, cringing away from Canada, right before he knocked her down to the floor.

It was uncustomary for a man to hit a woman, and Canada knew that. He was not raised by hoodlums who had no respect towards women. However, England as well as France thought that tonight was an exception to do such a dirty act to a female. It was all in defense. Hell, they were free of Inca for the time being.

"Canada, when did you get here?" England asked as Canada untied the two from the tight ropes.

"Does it matter? He saved us! Is saving…? Damn tenses."

"We aren't out in the clear yet," Canada said as the ropes fell loose to the floor, "We need to help America and fast."

After he had said his piece, Canada turned to where his brother ran, realizing his words were unnecessary. They heard shuffling before, but it stopped. There where Aztec stood, the nations witnessed America holding Aztec against his chest in the same fashion she held Mexico earlier that evening. It was apparent she didn't have the same body strength as he, but that didn't stop her from struggling.

"This ends now," America spoke in her ear. "Call off the others now. I know you're leading them."

"Maya, Inca, stay where you are and don't attack," she commanded, giving the American a look of utter distaste from the corner of her eye right. The way she said it made America as well as the rest in the room to believe a 'yet' belonged at the end of her sentence. The other two went down on their knees, listening to their sister's words.

"Guys, tie them up," America instructed. And they did with the leftover rope the ancients used on them. "Now," America looked back to Aztec, "tell us how we end this."

"Oh, you make it sound as if it will be that easy," Aztec, a woman in no position to laugh, snickered at America's words. Hating the fact that the twisted woman made fun of him, America tightened his grip on her. The action stopped her for a moment, but it did not faze or frighten her. "Are you going to make me talk by torture…? I'll like to see you try."

"Don't make me do it. I don't want to hurt anyone, especially not a woman."

"I'm sorry to inform you, but I am no ordinary woman." It was obvious even to those who were not close to the two that Aztec struggled to free herself from America's grip. "I have seen horrible things—unforgivable things in my day. Your 'torture' is mere child's play compared to what I've seen."

"You're not helping yourself. I don't want a foul person like you living on this planet anymore. I gave you your life, and I can easily take it away."

Aztec chuckled, leaving an evil smirk on her lips. "Do you understand how childish that sounds?" The countries saw Aztec hit America in his stomach with her elbow, making the country bend forward as he heaved to gain some air in his lungs. She turned with one swift and quick movement, facing him. Aztec lifted a fist directly above America's back and slammed her heavy hand without any hesitation. The noise that America's body made when he hit the ground sounded almost like a tree branch snapping. It made every one of the American's comrades cringe. All they could do was stand back as they witnessed Aztec looking down at America's immobile body with a smile that one could admit was beautiful yet masked by a radiance of evil that no one could ignore. She was happy, too happy to the point where the delight on her face could freeze anyone on the spot. She held no feelings of sympathy for America when she looked at his paralyzed body collapse on the floor.

"You all think the same way," she said, inching towards America. She kneeled in front of him as she lifted his head by yanking his blonde hair. Their faces—so different, one light and the other dark—were so close that America could feel the hairs on their skin brush one another. "Our lives, the lives of the indigenous race, you think they are something that can be owned, used, and controlled for your own benefit. But I'll let you in on a little secret, they don't. They never have, and they never will be. And I'll be damned if I let that happen again."

Aztec finally broke eye contact with America as she released his hair to only let his face slam against the cold floor. Even though his entire body ached, America hadn't the energy to comfort his wounds and growing bruises. He laid on the ground with his back exposed for more of Aztec's attacks if she pleased. But the only action Aztec took part of was letting the vile sneer etched into her face burn into America's memory. Though there was a hint of amusement in her dark eyes when America's blue eyes met hers, this woman was sick and twisted, and America realized it once he saw how her face lit up when he suffered. She was a monster, and it was apparent in that quick moment.

America turned his head slowly to glance and see if his companions were doing better than him. But instead of seeing them fight, America noticed the immeasurable pleasure that emitted around Inca. She and Maya took Aztec's attack on the American as a sign to free themselves of their capturers, and that was the only sign Inca needed in order to fulfill her growing desires.

Inca undoubtedly astounded Aztec with her swift yet graceful attacks. It was like watching a professional ballet performed by the finest dancers found across the globe. She turned on a dime with little effort. If any of the people in the room had a camera, they would have captured some of the most beautiful pictures ever caught on film.

Her first and nearest target was Canada. Inca yanked out Mexico's baseball bat from the Canadian's hands and threw it across the dim lit room. Judging from the look in his eyes, he too was surprised by Inca's strength like England and France were. Canada was no pushover. When he wanted or needed to, he could just as easy show his power to others; however, that was not in his nature. The Canadian was too nice of a character to do something so arrogant. This time as he encountered Inca for the first time he was just caught off guard, thus not being able to defend himself properly. Inca grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to respond to her action.

On the other side of the room, Maya grabbed a hold on France, who struggled to free himself from the demonic woman even if he knew it was close to impossible. If America, one of the strongest countries around, could not match the woman's strength than France, a country that was not at the top of his game nowadays, stood no chance against the Mayan Empire.

The ancient Incan then moved Canada more to the left to where her sister and France were. She was not gentle to the country for Canada struggled to stay on his feet while Inca guiding him by the neck. America's brother reached for Inca's body, hoping to grab anything to set him free of her grasp. He grabbed nothing useful. The only thing Canada's hand came in contact with was the mirror Aztec handed to her earlier. Instead of seizing it in his hand, the Canadian dropped it, but Inca must have not heard her precious object hit the floor since she continued to focus on torturing Canada.

America noticed that Canada was now directly in front of France who was still in a chokehold by Maya. Before they did anything, Maya and Inca shared a look as though they could read the other's thoughts. Inca nodded as Maya held France in front of her.

America could not comprehend anything since the two ancients moved at the speed of light. Inca kicked Canada in the chest as Maya pushed France. The two collided, making a smacking sound like skulls hitting another echo in the halls. The two undoubtedly fell to the floor unconscious, ending those two as interferences and leaving only one left.

Inca set her sights on England. Once the Brit realized he was the next target, he tried desperately to attain Mexico's lost bat in the dark, which proved to be irrelevant. The English gentleman felt a small yet heavy body latch onto him from behind, forcing him to fall face down on the ground. England looked ahead to see the baseball bat in the corner of the room, a few feet away from where he laid. He felt so defeated, almost as if he failed his friends at saving their lives. Now England became conscious that he was in the same dilemma as America earlier, only Maya didn't have any interest in her prey.

"Look at us," said Inca, leaning in close to his ear as she brushed his blonde hair, "alone at last." She sounded in control and powerful much to England's dislike. It was as though Inca and her sisters came alive when others had fallen.

"I can assure you," England said as he turned his head just enough so he could see Inca from the corner of his eye, "I won't be easily defeated."

"Good." Inca cocked an eyebrow with interest, leaning in closer to England. "I like a challenge."

From afar, Aztec couldn't help but roll her eyes in revulsion at what Inca said to the other country. It was absolutely nauseating. In order to rid the disgusted feeling in her mouth, Aztec turned to Spain and Mexico, who were already in Maya's clutches. She observed how Spain inched his way in front of the younger country as if trying to shield her from danger. And there was Mexico staring up, wide-eyed in distress, unable to absorb the idea of her relative being so savage-like.

The woman returned her sights to America, who struggled to stand up properly. His legs were wobbly, but his eyes never wavered from her or showed any doubt in himself.

"It seems as though you have led your friends to the slaughter," she said purposefully antagonizing him to make him emotionally unstable, "and here I only wanted to get my hands on Spain. You seemed to have complicated my plans, America. I have to get rid of them all now."

"I won't let you hurt any of them."

"You sound so sure that you will stop us. Do you honestly think you can stop three of the most powerful empires to rule this land?"

"Of course, I will. I'm the damn hero for Christ's sake, and the hero always wins."

For one reason or another Aztec's smirk had a hint of amusement once she heard America speak. His words humored her as if he were joking rather than threatening her. Before she spoke, Aztec held in a chuckle that begged to be released. "I knew it was an unquestionable fact that idiots set the rules in this world, but this is just ridiculous—you're ridiculous. This is reality, and anything goes. Just look at yourself and your friends and how long it took for your plan to fail. Pathetic. The world grew soft in my absence."

"Or maybe you were just too cruel for the world to handle. Ever think that was why you didn't survive?"

"Is that the propaganda you bought into? I was a monstrous species? Not even sensible enough to be considered human? Oh surely you are mistaken. I didn't come from across the seas to invade, cheat, and exterminate innocent races of people. That was your friend over there," Aztec raised her voice to a harsh tone that hid the hurt her past caused her. The words she spoke came from a deep, dark place hidden inside her mind. She relived the memories as she vaguely described what she dealt with all those centuries ago. Her gaze followed to where America glanced. He looked at England for advice on what to do next. America usually did when he ran out of solutions. Aztec caught on and used it to her advantage. "That man," she spoke up, gaining America's attention, "that country is what Spain was to me."

"What the hell are you talking about?" America seemed as if he was offended at what Aztec said. No way were they in any way the same.

"A conqueror, a leech. You think I only speak of Mexico and the other places Spain conquered in the past. When in fact, you are or were in the same predicament as her. Don't think any of what I say excludes you. We are the same you and I, you and her," Aztec glanced at Mexico.

"We are not the same! We are in no sense the same!"

"Look at you two. Both of you were raised as colonies, raised to benefit your motherland before taking care of your needs, am I right?"

"Stop it."

"So why do you save them now? You revolted and gained your independence through blood, sweat, and pride. If it wasn't for that, I'm sure both of you, and many others in your position, would have never tasted that freedom. I'm sure your caretakers had no intentions of freeing you from their clutches."

"Shut up."

"They killed your land and people, reduced your past to ashes, replacing it with theirs, just like they did here."

America lowered his head, holding all the fury that was building up due to the conversation between him and Aztec. Even from a far, the others noticed how his knuckles were white from America clutching them so tightly. "I said shut up!"

"Oh, did I strike a nerve? Funny thing is, you aren't the last or first. You are nothing special. You were just another land to rob." Aztec was doing her job perfectly and that was making America angry. All the countries knew how vulnerable and unstable America was when he got angry. It wasn't a standard road rage level or 'realizing someone forgot to replace the toilet paper in the bathroom when it was too late to do anything about it.' No. America's fury was deadly. Self-destructive. It rots his being from within, making him both indestructible and vulnerable at the same moment. They all knew it too. Canada, Mexico, England, France, all the countries. They all knew about America and his temper.

Slowly but surely, Canada regained consciousness. He had been entering in and out of reality for quite some time now, leaving him to stare at the ceiling in a daze state of mind. He fell on the floor harder than he had expected. At least Canada had France as a cushion as the two took a dive on the marble floor. France wasn't that lucky, though. The Frenchman fell straight to the ground with nothing to soften his fall, causing him to black out face down on the floor.

As Canada recuperated from his plunge, a massive and painful headache pounded against every nerve where his and France's head collided, muffling but not drowning out the noises around him. The pain caused a ripple effect, starting with the side of his head to the tips of his shoulders. It felt like being stabbed with hot sewing pins.

Once the distracting pulsing noise faded away, Canada heard the dialogue between Aztec and America unfold before him. America's voice became more sinister and harsh as the conversing progressed as Aztec stayed calm, continuing to mock him and those around him. It marked a dangerous point for everyone involved, and Canada knew it must be stopped. He had to stop the evil one from taunting America even more so.

Canada relieved his headache by pressing his palm against his forehead even though every move he made only worsened the tender ache. The throbbing noise it caused resounded throughout the various systems functioning to keep calmness in the Canadian's head, but he worked through it. When Canada moved his head to the door where the ancients used in order to attack the countries earlier, he noticed a fire alarm next to it. It was a long shot to stall time and escape, but anything was worth getting out of this hellhole.

Worry and his nerves got the better of him as he struggled to get up off the ground. Canada did not want to fail his friends a second time. Their lives were hanging on by a thread. He felt weak and powerless. He was not a hero like his brother, a strong empire like England, confident like France, or proud like Prussia. He was just Canada, a man who waited patiently on the sidelines when it came to confrontation. While the Canadian wallowed in self-pity and doubt, his insecurities of the past and present ate at his core. He didn't want to be a failure again.

"Please, Maya," Aztec said, driving Canada's thoughts away from self-infliction, "let me see Spain's face up close. I want to look him in the eyes as I degrade his will to live layer by layer." Aztec's sharp nails dug into Spain's neck the more she spoke out loud. It seemed as though the crazy woman had no intention of killing her victim just yet. She enjoyed the pain in his eyes, but the hurt in his eyes barely scratched the surface of what she wanted him to feel. He wasn't getting off the hook so easily.

As much as it hurt Spain's ego, the evil woman's words affected him more than he would like to share with the others. Nowadays Spain's fellow countries viewed him as a laid back type of guy without a care in the world, but the women in the room- the one front of him more importantly— she with just her eyes, burning with hate, reduced him to nothing, constantly reminding him of the pest he was like a rat struggling to survive by eating garbage, to be exact. "It's a shame. You are now just a shell of what you use to be. My people died for nothing, for your fifteen minutes of fame."

If someone were to ask Canada if he and Spain were friends, chances are the response would be negative. No, the two hadn't talked to one another personally unless it was for a dire situation. However, if one were to ask Canada if he was a decent human being and willing to assist anyone in a time of need, well, the Canadian would jump to the occasion in a heartbeat, eh.

And so he did. Canada leaped to his feet in a split second, ignoring the pounding caused by his head injury. The other countries in the room hadn't even the chance to fathom or even acknowledge what was happening in the room, and Canada didn't turn back to see if they saw him. All Canada thought of was how his brother, friends, and acquaintances were being bullied by good for nothing thugs, and he was forced into a circumstance where he was the only one who could save them.

Nothing enforced his valiant actions more than the overpowering thumping sound coming from his racing heart. It beat faster and faster as it played its own heroic symphony, encouraging him to run closer to the fire alarm. Once his hand reached for it, Canada pulled it down without any hesitation.

The alarm started a chain of events, starting with the unbearable noise it sounded off only triggering the water to spray the people below. Canada never intended to scare the three countries; he only wanted to distract his enemies for a split moment to free his comrades. The fire alarm was an unnatural event to them almost like witchcraft. Sure, the three were more than familiar with rain, but for it to be on the inside when there was a perfectly strong ceiling above them, blocking them from the sky, scared them immensely. Aztec let go of Spain, unsure of what the hell was going on. She looked at her hand to see if the water above dissolved her skin.

Inca on the other hand got off England immediately, screaming as she cowardly ran to her sister Maya, who was the last one of the sisters to react. Maya lifted her arms to shield her head from the indoor rain. The sisters were so frightened by the odd phenomena that they cowered away to an area under the second story that blocked the water from touching them.

The countries who were victims only praised the sound and fueled their excitement, seeing as it stopped the three dumbfounded women from doing any further damage. A wave of relief released America of his worry. He saw Mexico helping up England to his feet after Inca left him. And as for his brilliant brother, Canada tried his best to awaken France, who was just waking up. He felt good. Safe. But their celebration and relief came to a halt. When America noticed how Spain kept his eyes set on Aztec the entire time rather than relax like the others. Aztec's bitter aura became denser and agitated with each passing moment.

"You think a few raindrops are going to stop me and my sisters?" She more or less shouted over the commotion in a voice far beyond outrage and hate, staring at America with her cold, dark eyes. "You are sorely mistaken."

"Don't get all bent out of shape just because you lost," America replied. "Things change."

"You are right about that; things do change but not always or the better. I'm afraid the worst has yet to come." America held up his guard as he spoke to Aztec. It looked like she bared her teeth like a hungry animal to intimidate her target.

Time stood still as the two highly diverse people with completely different backgrounds had a stare down. It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours and the two would have felt no side effects. The crazed woman had enough of all talk and no play. Aztec readied herself to lunge at America. She took a few steps forward to attack him then lifted her arm to swipe America with her nails.

Even though the image of Aztec about to hit him was imprinted on America's mind, the young man never felt her collide with him. From his left side, England came to America's rescue like a beacon of hope, piercing the darkness. In his hands, England held the fire extinguisher that was on the counter of the front desk and aimed it right at Aztec. Without any hesitation, the Englishman released the white foam at the incoming enemy. England's attack stopped Aztec right away. She backed away from everyone and returned to the shadows to the other room. England then pointed his weapon at the other two enemies.

"You have two choices," England announced, "either you can join your good for nothing sister and return to the hellhole you came from or—" he stopped for a moment to think about how to complete his sentence. "I take what I said back. Just crawl back into your graves."

"You think our fun ended?" Inca spoke up, "Well, I would like to inform you that it only just begun." Even from afar, it was noticeable that Inca fumbled to look for an object. When her hand touched her hip rather than the desirable item she intended to grab in the first place, a state of panic overcame her. "Where is my mirror?" Inca asked to no one particular as she looked at the area around her.

Something inside France's mind clicked. Maybe it was because he was unconscious for some time and wanted to make up for his absence, but France felt it was his time to defend his friends. France knelt down in a flash to grab the fallen mirror on the floor. He thought about what to do with it afterwards, but seeing the horrified look on Inca's face made France question the worth of the mirror in his hands. Inca resembled a woman who looked as if she had a gun put to her head. She was overwhelmed with emotions. For the first time of the night since she was awakened, Inca looked powerless. Obviously his old object had more value than previously thought.

France held up the mirror in a threatening manner to fend off any of his enemies' incoming attacks. The idea of knowing the Frenchman had the power to smash her mirror into the ground irritated Inca. She wanted nothing more than to steal her possession back to regain her dignity back.

"You," Inca said as she pointed straight at France, glaring with a look that burned into his skin, "I will get you back."

"I 'ighly doubt zat," France shot back. "I 'ave the upper 'and."

"Not for long." Another odd emotion surfaced in Inca. She looked angry, very angry. It was the complete opposite of how she acted with England.

The fire alarm began its second phase for a loud ringing noise started to play. If the cops were not on their way already, the onlookers nearby would hear the sirens and surround the museum. The countries couldn't have witnesses. It would be impossible to explain the events of that night without looking like an insane person. America took the alarm as a sign for him and his friends to leave the premises.

"Come on," the American shouted over the clamor, almost pushing his friends out the door. They all followed his suit. Fortunately, they were all on the same page, and none of them needed to be told and England lead their friends outside. Meanwhile, Spain continued to act like a father to Mexico by grabbing her hand to lead her passed the doors. France, up until the last possible second, kept his eyes on Inca, who still glared at him with a face that could kill. An itch to attack with basic, survival instincts rose in Inca, but she held back with all her might. Maya must have noticed her sister's reaction because Maya placed her hand over Inca's shoulder as a way to hold her back.

"Please wait, sister," Maya told Inca. "You will have your chance."

Maya's words upset Inca, but she obeyed her older sibling with much regret. Without looking back, America was the last to run out of the museum and the only one to hear the sisters' threat.

* * *

**And then I decided to make Canada undeniably awesome in this chapter. Sorry for updating so late. I was just focusing on school, developing Mexico and the other characters perfectly, and adding subplots. This is the first of any of my stories to be updated this year so I hope that means a very awesome year of writing and enjoying life.**

**So yeah, any thoughts you want to tell me.  
**


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